Treasure
by Hamliet
Summary: When Eren's father dies and leaves him with the coordinate to a treasure that can stop the century-long war between Eldia and Marley, he sets out to fulfill his father's wishes and winds up on the ship of mankind's most feared pirates, where he realizes the enemy may not be whom he thought it was. Pirate AU.
1. The Map

"How many wounded?" Erwin asks, gripping the helm. The metallic odor of blood and the musky stench of gunpowder saturate the air. The sun beats down on them all, blinding and brutal.

"Five. Nothing fatal," Levi, his first mate, responds. "Hange and Moblit are attending to them."

"That was a narrow escape, Captain!" pants Oruo. He wipes sweat from his brow and glugs water from a small canteen.

"It was," Erwin agrees. Too narrow for his liking. They can thank the wind for it; without the oncoming storm, they never would have been able to get away.

Levi grimaces as he examines one of his cutlasses.

"What are you thinking?" Erwin presses. Oruo jogs off to help Petra wash the deck.

"We're going to need more crew members," Levi says with a frown. "If we ever want to end this war."

Erwin stares off at the horizon, the ocean stretching out around them in all directions without a hint of land, and yet it's hardly an oasis from the war that's been raging for one hundred years. "I know."

"They'll keep coming for us until we have proof." Levi shoves his cutlasses back in their sheaths.

"I know that, too."

"I know you know," Levi says, smirking. Erwin chuckles. His arm throbs, phantom pain from where he lost an arm last year. Hange was barely able to save his life. Erwin cringes at the memory. He hated lying in his cabin for so long, with nothing to do but wait for his body to heal itself. Of course, he tried to return to the helm earlier than Hange recommended, and Levi almost ripped his other arm off.

His crew is more loyal than most.

"When Hange's finished, we'll met in my cabin," Erwin decides.

The sky starts to bloom crimson and gold before Hange emerges from the hatch, chortling and waving something that looks very much like a bloody bullet that she's probably just pulled out of someone's arm.

"Hange, that is disgusting," Levi snaps. "Dump it overboard."

"It's larger than the normal bullets!" Hange retorts. "See?" She pulls out another one from their last battle, two months earlier.

"A new type of musket?" Erwin wonders. "The Marlay still have better strategy."

Hange scowls. "I know." She pockets both of the bullets, leaving Levi muttering to himself.

They troop down to Erwin's cabin, the hull creaking and groaning as the water grows choppier. Mike, his second mate, hangs a lantern on a hook dangling from the ceiling. Light spills over the table, rolling back and forth as the lantern swings.

"We should look for a city near where refugee settlements are," Levi says. "If anyone dares to leave, they'll be ripe for recruiting."

"I heard that old buyer of ours moved to Trost," Erwin muses.

"Trost is close to—well, the royal family sometimes stays close to there," Levi points out.

Mike nods thoughtfully. "Security could be—"

"We can handle it," Erwin declares, his fist tightening. His missing arm throbs, a ghost still gnawing at him. New recruits are just a way to delay the inevitable. He grits his teeth. They have to find a way to prove the king's duplicity sooner rather than later. _Or you'll lose more than your arm, and five injured will be a dream compared to what will happen to your crew._

There are already dozens dead, wrapped in their green flag with wings on it, and sunken to the bottom of the sea.

Levi nods. He places his full faith in Erwin, despite the numerous men and women they've lost over the past few years, and Erwin doesn't want to let him down. Erwin doesn't want to let _anybody_ down.

The dead littering the bottom of the sea, all because of him, laugh, a sound gargled and haunting in Erwin's mind.

But if they had kept fighting in the king's wars, they'd _all_ be dead by now.

"Mike? Set a course for Trost," Erwin commands.

* * *

"Promise me," Father says, his eyes streaming. "It's on you now. Get revenge for your mother."

Crickets chirp as if they're creating a melody for a peaceful, breezy summer night. But Father leans against a tree as if he can't bear to stand up. His breath comes short, ragged, and a sick sensation builds inside Eren. _How could I not have noticed?_ "Sit down! I'll get—"

"Don't!" Father wheezes. "You can't tell—"

"What are you talking about?" Eren cries out. Father stumbles, and it's only then that Eren sees the blood streaming from a wound to his back. Eren catches him as his legs crumple, and he can't help but think this isn't how it should be, the fifteen-year-old cradling his father in his arms. "Who did this to you? I'll kill them—I'll—"

He's crazy talking. He's making no sense, he doesn't even know what he's saying, all he knows is that he can feel his father's blood on his fingers, can see things that happened five years earlier, can imagine the face of the enemy. Fury consumes him, scorching and shaking his bones. "Father!"

Father's eyes loll to the side, and Eren shakes him— _no_ , what is he thinking—his fingers fumble towards the wound to put pressure on it.

"Please, Eren," Father rasps. His hand clutches a small scroll, rolled up. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Eren demands, looking all around them. Trees stand erect like soldiers, stoically observing them. It isn't right. Eren's chest tightens. He needs people, not trees. He needs Mikasa, or Armin— _anyone_ —

"I'm glad," Father says as he looks into Eren's eyes. "That you look like your mother."

 _Huh?_ Eren gapes at him.

He coughs, and then the sounds disintegrate into nothing, even the crickets, and the silence screams and screams inside Eren's skull. "Wake up!" he shouts, shaking the man. "Wake up!"

 _Not again… not again…_

"Who did this?" Eren croaks out, as if the dead can answer. "I will find them. And I will get revenge on them, too—I'll—"

"Eren?" A voice comes soft from behind the trees. He leaps to his feet as Mikasa emerges, her sleeping robe pulled tight around her and a torch flaming in her hand. Her eyes widen when she sees Grisha Jaeger on the grass, sees the tears streaming down Eren's face.

"He—"

"Who did this?" Mikasa demands, her jaw set.

Eren shakes his head. "He said—to get revenge for my mother—but I need to find them, the animals that—" _She knows, she knows what this is like._

Mikasa draws her sword, the one she always keeps strapped to her waist. The sword and the red scarf around her neck are the two mainstays of her appearance. The back of Eren's neck prickles. Could whoever did this still be here?

"We need to get out of here, Eren," Mikasa states.

"I can't leave—" It's his father. And he's dead.

 _Someone killed him_. Someone stabbed him like a pig, stabbed him because they clearly thought of him as less than human, they didn't care about him, they stabbed him, but Eren _loves_ him. _It's not right!_ He wants to scream, pound the grass, tear it up.

"We'll call for the coroner. He's used to being woken up at night." Mikasa's hand still aims the sword at the darkness, as if expecting the monsters that killed his father to jump out. The other clutches the fire lighting the clearing. "Especially these last months."

Eren swallows. Cold, hard rocks settle in his stomach. He can't imagine how their refugee settlement will react. Dr. Jaeger saved so many of them from the various plagues of dysentery and rashes that break out every few months.

 _More hope, drained._

 _Not all of it._ Eren grits his teeth and leans over, extracting the scroll from his father's fingers. Tears run, wet and clean, down his cheeks.

"What's that?" Mikasa questions.

"I don't know," Eren says. "He said it would—help me get revenge for Mother—" But Mother died because of the invading Marlay, not because of— _what was he thinking?_

Mikasa tilts her head.

"Armin," Eren breathes. "Armin will know what to do."

"He will," Mikasa affirms.

"I'll kill them," Eren vows, clenching his free fist, sticky with blood. "I'll kill them all."

Mikasa steps forward. "Eren."

He staggers to his feet, nausea surging. His father stays limp, lifeless, and he can't— _it's not fair_ — _What more can they take from me?_ "I'll give them everything," he chokes out. "I'll sacrifice everything I have, but I'll—make these pieces of shit pay—"

"Eren, we have to leave," Mikasa says. " _Now_."

* * *

" _They're here!"_

Eren remembers that shout, remembers the way the ground shook with each cannon blast, and the sinking feeling in his stomach because he'd known, he'd always known, that the forts they set up along the coastline wouldn't be enough to keep out the Marlayan navy should they ever come knocking. Despite Hannes insisting that the battles were being fought far out at sea and that they would never dare try to invade Eldian land, Father told him. _"They think we're dangerous. They won't play defense for ever."_

And the horrible realization that the cannon blasts had collapsed part of the fort, that blasts were felling the town, in the direction of his house—Eren's chest tightens at the memory.

 _Again._

 _I've lost Father now, too._

Hannes came. He saved Eren and Mikasa, and Father found them as they raced away from the ruins of Fort Shinganshina. Now claimed for the Marlay.

"Drink," Mikasa orders him, shoving a cup of tea at Eren. The small shack they share comes into focus.

He shoves it away. Again, Hannes will collect the body of one of Eren's parents.

"Eat," she commands, appearing over him with her eyes blazing.

Eren glares up at her. "You—"

She shoves a piece of bread into his mouth. "Eat, and live," she says, her voice cracking.

 _Why?_ Eren wants to shout, but his mouth is full of bread, dry and tasteless, but substance nonetheless. He chews, tears falling down his face.

"If I have to shove bread in your mouth every day for the rest of your life, I will," Mikasa vows, grasping his hand. "You have to _live_ , Eren."

 _It's on you now… promise me._

The door slams open, and Armin skids in, dressed in his threadbare shirt and torn britches. He halts when he sees Eren's tears, Mikasa's solemnity.

"I'm so sorry," Armin breathes, his lip trembling.

"I'm going to kill them all," Eren ekes out. "The people who did this."

Armin's eyes widen. "You don't know who?"

"Do you have any ideas?" Mikasa asks. She rises and leans against the wall of the tiny shack where they live. Their bedrolls lie on the floor, alongside moth-eaten blankets and several candlesticks. Three bedrolls.

 _Now we only need two._

Armin can only shake his head. "I wasn't there. Of course not."

"He came to get me late last night," Eren manages. "He said—to follow him—" Eren punches himself in the thigh. Armin jumps. Mikasa lunges. "Why didn't he go to another doctor's?" _He might have lived then! Did you want to die so badly? Why would you want that?_

"The scroll," Mikasa says. She doesn't have to finish. The implication is clear to Eren. _It must be important_.

A scream echoes outside. "It can't be true!" shrieks one of the neighbors. Eren cringes.

"I'll make them shut up," Mikasa vows, marching towards the ramshackle door with her hand on the hilt of her sword. She freezes.

"What is it?" Armin asks, alarm tinting his tone.

Eren rises. Hoofbeats echo.

"Royal riders," Mikasa says. "From the capital."

 _What?_ Eren leaps to his feet, staggering towards the doorway with the bread still gripped in his hand. All around him he sees houses exactly like his own—hastily built, thrown together out of desperation after the fall of Fort Shiganshina. And more refugees arrive each month, as the Marlay continue to attack Eldia.

Soldiers, dressed in crisp blue and white uniforms and carrying muskets as well as golden-gilted swords, sit upright on black horses. They gaze at the rags-clad refugees with contempt. Eren curls his fist again. _We didn't ask for this! We didn't ask for our homes to be destroyed, for our—families—_

" _Don't you think it's odd," Armin once said. "That the king's soldiers look down on us, when we are the face of the suffering the war has brought, when we show them why they should hate the Marlay?"_

" _Don't ever repeat that," Mikasa warned._

But the words echo and echo in Eren's mind. _Why do you despise us?_

"Citizens!" booms one soldier, a bald man. "We bring grave word."

Eren stiffens. _What else has fallen?_

"King Reiss was attacked last night as he prayed in the church. All his children, including Crown Princess Frieda, were murdered, although he was able to escape with his life."

Gasps echo around them. Eren spots Hannes returning, blood smeared across his jacket and despair marring his face.

"The Marlayans have infiltrated?" shrieks an older woman.

"No," the soldier answers, his gaze scanning the crowd. "We believe it was a group of Eldian traitors, likely who thought they were acting on behalf of their fellow refugees, when in reality their anger has become a tool of the Marlay. If we want to win this war, we must unite around our king, support him in this time of grief, not allow our grievances to turn us into the enemy we are trying to defeat."

 _If you lived here, you might think differently,_ Eren thinks bitterly.

"Have you caught the culprits?" Hannes asks.

"No," states the soldier. "But we believe we will, shortly." His horse shits in the street, right in Hannes's doorway. Eren's nose curls.

"The capital is so close to here," Armin whispers. "They can't think it's someone from this camp, can they?"

"We all know they can," Mikasa says coldly as the soldiers gallop out.

 _Whether or not it actually is,_ Eren knows she means.

"I assume they're planning on searching all of our homes," Armin says.

 _Who gives a damn?_ Eren's heart throbs. Everyone's dying. Everyone's killing. _It's so wrong. This war's turned us into animals._

Eren breaks away from his friends, stumbling into his shack. The scroll lies on the small wooden board that lies on the ground and serves as their table.

"It's a dark day," Armin whispers, hands clutching his head.

Eren's hand closes around the scroll. He unrolls it and blinks.

It's a map.

But a map unlike what he's seen before. It vaguely resembles the maps Eren grew up seeing of Eldia and Marlay, but it's different too—Eren's never seen that peninsula, or that collection of islands—and one large island, with an _x_ marked on it—

"This almost looks like a pirate's map," Mikasa says over his shoulder. She crouches down.

"But that island doesn't exist," Eren snaps. He remembers the brief lessons Mother gave him, with maps of the world.

"Not according to the official maps," Armin murmurs.

Mikasa frowns. Outside, people weep, gasping and sniffling. For the Princess and her siblings, or for his father, Eren doesn't know. His chest aches.

"Eren," Armin says, in a tone that stiffens Eren's spine. He reaches out and taps the corner of the scroll.

A crest.

The Reiss crest.

The royal crest.

Eren rolls the scroll back up, tossing it away from him. His lungs freeze, and the cool air feels as if it's on fire and he can't inhale.

"He was at a patient's yesterday—" Mikasa starts.

"Which patient?" Armin cuts in.

"He _usually_ doesn't tell us," Mikasa says, pulling her scarf over her mouth. She turns to Eren. It's a plea.

"He wouldn't," Eren barks. His lungs inflate, but he feels no relief. He's still suffocating.

"It doesn't matter," Armin says, reaching for the scroll. "Don't you see, Eren, Mikasa? If they—if anyone finds it here—and you can bet they're going to come once someone reports that the doctor was stabbed last night—you'll be accused. They'll hang you both as traitors if only to make a statement."

"We can—"

"You can't explain!" Armin shouts, blue eyes huge and terrified. Terrified in a way Eren's only seen three times before—when he and Mikasa ran back towards their houses the day the first fell, the day his grandfather was conscripted, and the day news of his grandfather's death came. "They won't give you that chance!"

 _Father, what have you done_?

"What do we do?" Mikasa asks.

"We—" Armin hesitates.

"We have to get out of here," Eren says, determination solidifying. "We have to go."

"Where?"

"There are other refugee—" Armin starts.

"No," Eren says. "You two should. But I—"

 _It's on you now._

 _Get revenge…_

 _Promise me… please._

"I'll take all the money we have," Eren says. "I'll buy passage on a ship." He points to the scroll. "I'm going there."

"To the island that doesn't exist?" Mikasa questions, dubious.

"It might," Armin says in a small voice.

"I'll get as close as I can," Eren confirms. Hoofbeats echo outside. "I don't have a choice." _If I stay here, I'll die._

"Did he say anything about what it was for? Why this was important?" Armin presses.

"The war—something about that," Eren says, his throat tightening as he remembers his father stumbling through the woods, himself a son blinded to his father's bleeding wound, mumbling about needing to stop the war.

"This doesn't make any sense," Mikasa says. "It seems to be more of a fantasy, and the map looks like a pirate's—"

"It wasn't a pirate's, Mikasa. It was a member of the royal family's," Eren states. The full weight of what he's said crashes into him.

 _Father, what did you_ do?

Princess Frieda was the only member of the royal family who ever came to visit the refugee settlement. Eren remembers her reading stories to the children, how she held them despite the lice crawling through their hair. _He couldn't have. He couldn't have._

"If you're going," says Mikasa, watching his face with hers drained of color. "I'm coming with you."

"You can't.. You should go to another settlement—"

"Can't I?" Mikasa asks. "What else do I have left? If he's dead and you're gone, suspicion will fall on me. You know it will."

His head pounds. "Mikasa—if you go to another place, take another name—"

"You're going to need someone to protect you, anyways," she continues, gripping the hilt of her sword.

"I can protect myself," Eren snaps. Her face falls.

"I'm coming, too," Armin says quietly.

Eren shakes his head. "No, Armin." Armin might have been his friend almost as long as Eren can remember, but he's not exactly physically strong. A sea voyage can't be easy for him.

"What do I have here?" Armin asks. "I can help, with the map, with—" He gulps.

"I know you can," Eren insists. "I just—I don't want you to—"

"Eren wants to protect you," Mikasa says flatly. Eren narrows his eyes at her. _It's different._

"I don't think I'd be completely useless, though," Armin says, gripping his shoulders. "I can—"

"You're never useless, Armin," Mikasa tells him, crossing her arms as if the very idea offends her just as much as it offends Eren.

"I can get us horses," Armin says. "We can sell them in Trost for passage out on a merchant ship."

"You can?" Eren's jaw drops.

Armin flushes. "Not through the most scrupulous of means, I'll admit, but—"

"Do it," Eren urges, grasping his friend's wrists. "We're counting on you."

Mikasa nods. She marches over to the corner of their shack, grabs one of Father's old carpetbags, and starts stuffing clothes inside. Armin promises to return and scurries outside.

Eren squeezes his eyes shut. Just yesterday morning, he said goodbye to his father, watched him leave with his doctor's case clasped in his hands, leave for— _where did you go?_

"Eren," Mikasa says, tugging her scarf down so he can see her mouth. She stops in front of him. "We'll figure this out. What your father was asking. We'll find it, even if it's on an island that doesn't exist. I promise you."

Eren nods. His eyes sting.

"If you want to cry," Mikasa says as she pulls out the small wooden box where they keep their money. "You should cry. It's not weakness."

"I don't need to cry," Eren snaps. _You know what this is like, at least somewhat,_ he thinks. _This is the second time you've lost people who care about so deeply._

Mikasa turns to look at him, and in her eyes he sees her blazing determination: _she won't let that happen to me._ He grits his teeth.

"I wish I could," she says.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! This story will be updated Mondays and Wednesdays.**


	2. The Merchant

"With the latest attack on the royal family, we should rake in the profits," Jean proclaims as he shields his eyes from the sun shining through the window. Sweat beads his forehead. "We might have our best voyage yet."

"Isn't this your first voyage?" asks Thomas Wagner, one of the new sailors assigned to him.

"My first captaining my own ship," Jean admits, annoyance flaring. "But it's certainly not my first."

"I'm sure you'll do a great job," says one of the other new sailors, a boy with dark hair and freckles. _Marco_.

"Thanks," Jean says. "We depart at seven in the morning. Be there, or miss sending money home for the next month."

His men nod and disperse out of the tavern. Unlike most other drinking spots scattered around Trost, this one is suitable for Jean because of the dark cherry wood bar and stools, the gleaming swords mounted on the wall, swords that killed Marlayans in battle, at least according to the bar's owner. Jean takes a swig of ale and forces it down. No matter how many times he tries it, he can't stand the bitter stuff, but he's expected to drink it. By whom, though, Jean's not sure. Maybe by his own expectations.

"Are you the youngest captain ever?" questions Marco.

Jean blinks. _You're still here_? "I don't know. Maybe." He frowns. "What do you mean by it?" Marco doesn't look like he can be much older than he is. Maybe a year, at the very most.

Marco blinks. "Well, I think it says good things about your leadership skills, if you're appointed this young."

"Oh." Jean relaxes. "Thanks. You going to go see the city before we leave?"

Marco frowns. "I don't know. You're from Trost, aren't you? Where should I see?"

"There's not much," Jean says with a snort. "I can't wait to get out of here." His eyes latch onto a strangely dressed boy entering the bar. He's shorter than Jean and wears a grin that identifies him as a fool. If Jean didn't know that no refugees had he funds to make it to Trost, he'd assume this fellow was among that unfortunate crowd.

"To the sea?"

"No—yes, the sea, but the sea's the means to an end." Jean closes his eyes, picturing that end—the safety and security of a life in Sina. "Other captains have retired early from the merchant business. If I can make enough runs and make enough profit, I could join them. Most of them are able to retire in Sina."

"Sina?" Marco's eyes widen.

Jean grins. "Yeah."

"Do you think it'll be more dangerous? After the attack?" Something about the way Marco asks tells Jean he isn't afraid.

"That'll be the perception, but probably not," Jean says as he leans across the small table separating them. "So we'll be able to charge the people who live in the archipelago extra, which they'll pay because they don't know if or when others are coming—and from what I've heard, they won't be coming for awhile. And they'll want more supplies because of that, too, so it's a—"

"Are you serious?" interrupts a voice.

Jean turns from Marco's paler face to see the brown-haired boy, wrapped in a ragged cloak. He glares at Jean as if he's a louse. "Do you want something? A copper coin?"

The boy's eyes flash. "You admitted to swindling—"

"I'm not swindling," Jean cuts in, getting to his feet. Other patrons stop to stare, one with his mug of ale halfway to his bearded chin. "If they couldn't pay it, I wouldn't make them. But I know they can. It's _business_ , which I'm guessing that _you_ —" His eyes run up and down from the boy's scuffed shoes to his stained britches and ill-fitting shirt. "—know absolutely nothing about." The accusation simmers inside of him. How dare this ignorant asshole suggest Jean is—

"With Eldians like you, who needs the Marlay?" the boy snaps.

"Excuse me?" Jean's fist curls. He takes a step forward.

"Hey, hey," Marco interjects as he leaps to his feet, one hand outstretched towards Jean and one to the boy. "Calm down. There's no need to fight here." He offers the boy a smile. "Are you a merchant too?"

"He's dressed like a refugee," Jean says with a roll of his eyes.

"Which means I've seen people die," the boy shoots back. "My mother—my—"

Jean's jaw drops. "You're actually—you—how did you get here?"

"Money may be harder to come by, but it does exist," the boy grumbles.

"My point exactly," Jean sneers, thinking of the buyers on the archipelago.

The boy's face blooms red with rage. Marco gulps.

"I'm so sorry," blurts out a shorter blonde boy as he scrambles over to them. He grabs the first boy's shoulder. "Eren, we should—"

"Fine," Eren grouses, still glaring at Jean.

"I apologize," the blonde says. "I hope you have a safe voyage."

Jean gives a short nod.

"What's your name?" Marco asks. "I'm Marco Bott, and this is Jean Kirchstein."

"Armin Arlert. We're originally from Fort Shiganshina, but, well…" Armin's voice trails off.

Jean swallows. The other patrons turn back to their business, evidently disappointed that there isn't going to be a fight. _Maybe this tavern's not as different as I thought_. "I'm sorry."

Armin nods. "So you're heading to the archipelago?"

"Dodging Erwin Smith's pirates and Marlayans stupid enough to come this far north," Jean confirms with a snicker. "I'm kidding. Marlayans don't come this far south."

"We're looking to go there," Armin says.

Jean's jaw drops. "Why?"

"Personal reasons," Armin says with a nervous glance at Eren. "We don't have a future here on the mainland. Don't you agree?"

Jean thinks back to the one time he rode by a refugee settlement. The stench and the sights—the people with huge, dull eyes—his stomach turns.

"There are three of us total," Armin continues. "Eren, me, and another friend of ours. We can pay."

Eren's gaze remains fixed on Jean.

"Do you really think like in the archipelago will be any better?" Marco questions. "I've only been there once as a sailor, but it was hard—a lot of—"

"No," Jean interrupts.

Armin blinks.

"I'm not taking on passengers. Especially not ones who insult me and assume the worst of my character." Jean slams some silver coins down for his drink.

"So you'll just confirm his presumption, then?" Armin calls out, grabbing Eren's arm as if to tell the boy to _shut up._

"Nice try at manipulating," Jean tells him.

Armin's face falls. "Please—we need to leave as soon as possible, and—"

"Jean, we do have room," Marco interrupts. "And we can charge them extra to make up for the insult if you're so inclined—"

 _So now_ you _believe them? That I'm only about money?_ Shame pricks at Jean's stomach, but dammit, if he gives in now, it'll just confirm it. He's trapped. "I _said_ , no."

"We can find another merchant," interjects a cold voice. Jean whirls around and his heart freezes.

A girl with long, glossy hair the color of onyx stands there, wearing a threadbare dress, a red scarf despite the heat, and a sword strapped to her side. She moves past Jean to stand next to Eren and Armin. "Let's go."

 _Think, man!_ Jean yells at himself. The three of them move towards the exit, the girl's hand on the hilt of her sword. "Wait!"

Marco glances at him. The three stop, but only Armin turns around.

"I'll take you," Jean states, his heart pounding. "For the normal rate, plus some help with tasks on board if my sailors need it." He marches over to them. "We depart at seven in the morning. I'll take your payment once you're on board. My ship's the _Rogue Titan_."

A small smile curves Marco's lips. Relief floods Jean.

"Shake on it?" He holds out his hand.

Armin takes his hand first, a grin on his face. "Thank you so much!"

"Thanks," mumbles Eren, shaking it reluctantly. Jean squeezes hard, until he sees the look in the girl's eyes. _Never mind._

"Mikasa," says the girl as she shakes his hand. "See you in the morning."

"If you impugn my character on board," Jean warns Eren as the three of them turn to leave again. "I'll make you walk the plank."

Mikasa's eyes narrow. Jean's mouth dries. _Or not._

"Your long hair will be hard to manage on board a ship," Eren says to Mikasa.

"Then I'll cut it," she answers.

 _No!_ Jean wants to protest.

"This just proves it to me," Marco says.

"Huh?" Jean turns around to stare.

"That you'll be a good captain," Marco says with a simple smile. "Even when you make mistakes, you rectify them."

* * *

 _They'll kill you._

 _Like they killed your mother, the siblings you didn't even know were your siblings._

 _Historia Reiss no longer exists. It's not safe for her._

Christa huddles on a street corner, the buildings behind her all made of ash-coated bricks. The sun is obscenely warm, and her dress, once fine like any princess's, sticks to her skin, glued by sweat. She winds her long golden hair around her hand. _How long has it been since I bathed? Three days again?_

 _At this rate, I won't be any good to my people_. Christa peers into a steamy muddy puddle. She can barely make out her features.

 _Historia Reiss is gone_.

Being Christa Lenz wouldn't be so bad, if Christa could do something other than be a pathetic street urchin in Trost. She's an inconvenience, something Historia was as well, but at least Historia could help people. Christa's just a nuisance.

 _I don't want to be a nuisance._ She wants Christa, at least, to be liked. To help people. To be good.

A blond soldier, dressed in blue and carrying a musket, passes by Christa with a stoic expression. Her fingers flick, however, and a gold coin drops onto the ground.

Christa's face burns. _I'm that pitiable?_

"Excuse me?" she calls, scrambling to her feet. "You dropped your coin!"

The girl turns around, her eyes wide. Long bangs hang around her face. "Keep it, if you want. Or give it away."

Christa flinches. The girl strides off, heading to two very tall boys who hardly look like the type of company a soldier would keep.

The sky darkens, and Christa winces. The soldier girl should get out of here. This is a part of Trost most residents prefer to think doesn't exist, a part that caters to pirates and smugglers rather than the elite. Christa hadn't seen it for herself before a week ago.

"Here," she tells a small boy as he scampers by. His eyes widen as she presses the gold coin into his palm.

"Thank you, miss!"

Christa smiles, watching him hoot as he races off.

"Now what are _you_ going to eat?" interrupts a dull voice.

Christa whirls around to see a tall girl with dark hair and freckles emerging from an alleyway. She chews on what looks like it might have been a carrot.

"He looked hungry too," Christa protests.

The girl drops the carrot stem onto the ground. "I've seen you here the past week."

Christa shrugs.

"You don't really seem the street type," the girl observes. "What happened? You get knocked up and kicked out by your family? You run away from a refugee settlement with a lover who then ditched you? Or—"

"No!" Christa protests, covering her face. "Nothing like—"

"Everyone has a sob story here," the girl observes. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me yours."

"How long have you been here?" Christa asks.

The girl cocks her head, as if surprised Christa's actually asking her about herself. "I'm Ymir," she says after a pause. "And I've been here—years."

"Christa Lenz," she says, not sure if the sound of her new name liberates or nauseates her. The girl soldier's vanished from the other side of the street, as have the two she was talking with.

"If you want to survive, you're going to have to prioritize yourself a bit more," Ymir tells her. "No giving away charity to little kids, no matter how cute they are."

"But he—"

"Or maybe you don't want to survive," Ymir says, watching her. "That means you surely have an interesting story, but I won't be around to hear it." She heads back into the alleyway, the sky bleeding orange and crimson over the cobblestones. Shadows swallow her up.

"Wait!" Christa calls, dashing after her. "You can't just leave—"

Ymir leans against the brick wall, arms crossed. "I can do whatever I like."

"But then who doesn't want to survive?" Christa demands. "If you won't be around to hear it—"

Ymir frowns, peeling herself off the wall. "I'm getting out of Trost, is all I meant."

"Oh."

"You were concerned for me?"

"Why not?" Christa asks, voice trembling as Ymir comes closer. Ymir's might be unmistakably a girl, but she's dressed more like a boy, in trousers and a soiled shirt.

"Don't worry," Ymir says. "I have no desire to die. I want to live." She bites her lip. "I signed up to sail with Erwin Smith's gang of pirates."

"Huh?" Christa's jaw drops. She vaguely remembers overhearing her father discussing that man during his infrequent visits—a former general in the army gone rogue, working for neither Marlay nor Eldian. _"It's as good as being a traitor!" Father cried. "He was such a promising general—we all trusted him."_

"Are you shocked?" Ymir's lips curve.

"No," Christa says, her heart pounding. "He's—here? Erwin Smith? In this town?"

Ymir nods. "We're leaving tonight. Under cover of darkness. Maybe it'll be a new life." Her voice sounds almost wistful.

"Where does he sail?" Christa questions.

"Wherever he wants," Ymir answers.

"Can I join too?" Christa blurts out. _Did I just say that?_ Her hands tremble.

 _Christa Lenz can be whoever she wants to be_.

 _But I want to be good._ And she also wants company. If Ymir leaves—she can't imagine spending tonight curled up again, alone and crying.

If the worst were to happen on board that ship, it'd be no different than what's already happened.

" _People will blame you," the executioner told her, his knife still dripping with her mother's blood as she cried and cried. "They'll want to rally around the one remaining heir, even if she's illegitimate. But it'll give the Marlay fodder against your father."_

 _And Christa knew, even then, what he meant. The right thing to do is to let her father remarry, sire more legitimate heirs. She didn't want the fate of an entire nation on her shoulders._

"Are you serious?" Ymir sounds amused.

"Yes," Christa insists, dusk tugging its blankets across the alleyway. "I want—I want—to get out of here."

A pause. Someone lets out a yell from the main street. Above them, Christa can hear the telltale grunts and moans of a brothel.

"Well," says Ymir. "That's one thing I can relate to."

"When do you leave?"

"A few hours." Ymir clears her throat. "We're meeting at the First King's tavern. We can go early and get something to eat, if you want." She digs through her pockets. "Unlike you, I haven't given my coins away."

Christa's stomach growls. Ymir laughs and slings an arm around her. "Come on, then."

A man with an earring leers at Christa as they enter the tavern. Scantily clad women drape themselves over grizzled men— _pirates_ , Christa realizes.

 _Am I really fit for this?_

"Back off," Ymir orders.

"Me too?" asks a jovial voice from behind Christa.

Ymir rolls her eyes, ordering two ales and some meat and bread. "Not you, Reiner."

A huge blond boy grins at her. An even taller, skinner boy with dark hair slips up behind the blond, keeping his eyes downcast.

"I don't think we've met," the blond says. "I'm Reiner Braun. This is—"

"Bertolt Hoover," says the brown-haired one.

"Oh, you do talk?" asks Ymir as she yanks out two free stools and pats one. "I wasn't sure. Sit, Christa."

He flushes. Christa hesitates. "Don't you want to?" she asks him.

"They are fine strapping gentlemen who will be joining us in our new venture," Ymir says as she accepts two mugs of ale and hands one to Christa. "To our new lives."

"To new lives," Christa echoes as she taps the ceramic against Ymir's. She sips as Reiner gestures to the stool.

"We're fine standing."

"Thanks." She drops onto it.

Reiner scowls. "She's too pretty to be here, Ymir. I know that on the _No Regrets_ it'll be a different story, but—"

"How will it be a different story?" Christa asks as she sips. She should be careful not to drink too much. Ymir has almost a foot on her. It tastes terrible, but the charms of the alcohol grab her, pulling her into a dance. _I'm starting a new life._

"Erwin Smith has his crew's complete loyalty. They do not hurt people unnecessarily," Reiner says.

Bertolt mumbles something that sounds like "honorable pirates."

"Christa can protect herself. And when she can't, I can back her up," Ymir states. "And so can you both."

 _You were the ones I saw talking to the soldier earlier,_ Christa realizes as she watches Reiner and Bertolt. Did they buy her off? Frankly, from what she's heard about the soldiers who patrol the streets of Trost, it wouldn't shock her.

"Connie's here," Reiner says happily. "Our fifth new recruit."

A bald boy, far shorter than Ymir but, of course, still taller than Christa, prances into the tavern with a huge grin on his face. "So tonight's the night, huh?" He claps Reiner and Bertolt on the shoulder.

"Did you tell Mother and Father and make them proud?" Ymir mocks.

Connie scowls. "I'm doing what I have to do."

 _Aren't we all,_ Christa thinks as Connie introduces himself to her and she to him. Then she watches Ymir take the fried, crispy meat and flatbread from the bar girl as Christa's own stomach growls, and she wonders.

* * *

The sun folds back the night with lavender and salmon fingers. "We're ready," Jean says as he surveys his crew. Marco stands at the front, smiling at Jean as if to encourage him. Mikasa stands towards the back, with Eren and Armin—the last of whom was effusive with his thanks this morning, and the middle of which sullenly offered Jean his bag of assorted gold, silver, and copper coins. Mikasa didn't look at him then, but she's looking at him now. Her hair's cropped short thanks to that idiot, but her face still beautiful.

The three soldiers he hired to safeguard the cargo, sitting heavy in the ships hull, watch Jean too. No pirates will get to his cargo. The blonde, Annie Leonhart, and her flirty companion Hitch Dreyse and dour one, Marlowe Freudenberg, who seems as though he has the potential to be as annoying as Eren. "Life the anchor!"

Sails snap and billow as the ship starts to move. Salt air hits Jean in the face, whips through his fine linen shirt.

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _This is what it means to be alive._ Even with a war raging on.

And with the help of this voyage, he'll earn enough money to ensure he stays that way.


	3. The Stowaway

Armin scurries down the halls of the ship, wobbling as it rolls back and forth. The scent of salt drags him towards the hatch, where he bursts onto the deck. He barely makes it to the railing in time for his stomach to force the stew and biscuits he ate up and into the sea. His throat burns. His eyes sting.

Armin hears tittering and turns to see the soldier with wavy brown hair covering her mouth. The man next to her rolls his eyes. Armin's face flushes.

"First time at sea?" asks a cold voice to his left.

Armin whirls around to see the blond soldier watching him with crystal blue eyes. Her bangs flutter around her face. He nods, wrapping his hands around his arms as he waits for his stomach to settle. It's windier than he imagined. "Yeah."

"It'll get better."

"How many voyages have you taken?" Armin questions. She doesn't seem much older than him, if at all. She can't have had many assignments.

The girl rests her chin on the railing, gazing out at the churning sea, churning blue green and spitting up white foam. "With the military? This is my first."

"Before that," Armin presses.

She narrows her eyes, turning to stare. "What's your name?"

 _Shit_. Armin gulps, the nausea returning. He does not want to invite suspicion, and that means avoiding the soldiers and their questions as much as he possibly can. Although... she's clearly got something she wants to avoid talking about, too. Namely, her past. "Armin. And you are?"

She scowls. "Annie Leonhart."

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he stammers. She cocks her head, as if confused.

"Hey, Armin!" calls out a voice. Marco, Jean's kind friend who showed them to their cabin, darts over to him. He pulls out a small brown vial. "Take two drops. It'll help the nausea."

"Thanks."

"It'll get better as you get used to it," Marco reassures him.

"That's what Annie said," Armin says, nodding to the soldier.

"Are those your companions?" Annie questions as Eren emerges from the hatch, followed by Mikasa. The three of them share one cramped cabin below, although so far Armin is the only one beset by seasickness.

He nods. Mikasa keeps her hand on the hilt of her sword. According to Jean, they have at least two weeks at sea before they reach the archipelago. Armin can only hope and pray Marco and Annie are right and his stomach stops flip-flopping. He stuffs the vial into his pockets and retches over the side again.

"Take the medicine," Annie orders.

Armin nods, sweat dampening his brow. "You actually care?" he ekes out as he swallows the bitter stuff—only two drops. Marco dashes across the deck to answer Jean's call. Eren and Mikasa make their way over to Annie and Armin.

She shrugs.

"That's kind of you," he tells her, and she blinks as if that's the last thing she expected him to say.

Marco scrambles over to the main mast, climbing the ropes to the top.

"Eren," he introduces himself.

"Mikasa."

"Annie." The faint glimmer of life Armin saw in her face moments earlier fades, replaced with a mask of boredom.

"Since you're in the military," Eren begins. "Tell me, is it legal for merchants to up their prices for people in the archipelago, because of how desperate they might be given the chaos on the mainland?"

Annie's brow furrows.

"Eren," Mikasa warns.

"He gave us passage, Eren, what are you trying to do?" Armin hisses. _And we shouldn't be giving Annie or any of the other soldiers any more than surface details!_

"No matter what he claims, it can't be justified," Eren declares.

"Life doesn't cater to your rules," Annie tells him bluntly. Armin bites back a smile.

"Isn't it your job to ensure that it does, to the fullest extent it can?" Mikasa questions, her eyes narrowing.

"We're out at sea," Annie says. "Our job is to protect the cargo from pirates."

"With just three of you?" Eren snorts. Her scowl deepens. Armin feels as if he's melting into the deck. "Are you just like him, then? Profit is the only thing that matters?"

"Eren!" Armin scolds.

"No," Annie says as she adjusts her musket, preparing to step away. "The only thing that matters to me is staying alive."

 _Isn't that what matters to all of us?_ Armin wonders. He looks back up towards the helm, where Jean grins at the sea.

* * *

Historia wakes to the creaking of the hull. Her hammock swings with the waves as she blinks sleep away. This is a far cry from her room in the king's summer estate, which was really just a well-kept farm where he stored his mistress and illegitimate child. No books, no colors, no curtains here—only drab wood and hammocks made of old sailcloth. But there's also no sense of looming danger, no unpredictable cold, and rations available to her. Unlike the streets of Trost.

Her palms sting. Ymir insisted on rubbing some ointment on her blisters last night after a long day of rope-pulling and climbing.

" _Are you scared of falling?" Ymir questioned as she hooked her foot in the ropes and began to pull herself up._

" _No," Christa replied._ If I die, I die.

" _You should be," Ymir tells her. "But you won't fall. I'd catch you." She grinned mischievously.  
_

She shakes her head. _You're Christa, not Historia_. The first mate, Levi, scowled at them all day, but the captain himself told them he was impressed.

" _Not with me," Christa mumbled._

" _Why not with you?" Ymir snorted. "You work hard and you don't complain. Unlike, say, Connie over here."_

" _Shut up, Ymir!"_

After Ymir finished rubbing the ointment on, Christa took some of it to Bertolt and Reiner.

" _What for?" Ymir asked._

" _Bertolt fell earlier, remember? He skinned his knee."_

" _You're an angel, Christa," Reiner breathed when she handed it over. "Bertolt, let me help you."_

Christa knows she's no angel. She's not even Christa. She does, however, find it ironic that people on a pirate ship seem to care about each other more than the royal court and its council seemed to care about each other, much less the nation.

Something thumps in the hallway.

Frowning, Christa eases herself out of her hammock. Ymir snores slightly in the one next to her, and Nanaba, a kind pirate who gave Ymir the ointment, sleeps across from her.

A crash. The sound isn't coming from the hold.

Christa slips into the hallway. _What—_

Someone leaps down the ladder, charging at Christa. She yelps.

Connie flies out from behind her and tackles the figure to the ground. He grunts, struggling to hold whomever it is.

"What are you doing?" Christa cries out.

"I think we have a stowaway," Connie grinds out, pressing his knee into the figure's back. "I saw her sneaking around the kitchen."

"I was just hungry!" protests the girl. Her brown hair lies messy around her face. She cranes her neck to peer up at Christa. Her yellow dress slips off her shoulder.

"If she's hungry—" Christa protests.

"I'm not trying to steal—I just didn't have money to—"

"That's stealing," Connie comments.

Christa crouches down. "I'm Christa."

The girl stops struggling. Connie removes his knee from her back. "Sasha Braus. From Dauper."

"That place?" Connie's nose wrinkles.

"Don't act like you're any better," Sasha retorts.

As far as Christa knows, Dauper is a poor village on the outskirts of Eldia, where people hunt their own food despite a growing shortage. She remembers Frieda lamenting the lack of education there. Not that he ever did anything about it.

"Well, you're an idiot," Connie informs her. "You snuck on board a pirate ship instead of a merchant ship."

"What?" Sasha cries out. "This is— _what?"_

" _Erwin Smith's_ pirate ship," Connie adds meaningfully.

Sasha pales, struggling to sit up. Connie leans back to let her. She won't be resisting. "Well, you don't look threatening."

Connie's jaw drops. "I just tackled you!"

Sasha jerks her thumb towards Christa. "If she hadn't been here, you wouldn't have caught me."

Connie closes his mouth.

"We're new," Christa says. "We just joined the crew." She wraps her long hair around her hand. "Although everyone does seem really nice. For pirates."

Connie rolls his eyes. The hull creaks, and the lantern waves, sending light sliding across their faces and the panels.

"Are you going to turn me in?" Sasha asks, deflated.

"Maybe they'd let her join the crew?" Christa asks Connie.

"I'm not going to risk my neck by covering for a stowaway I don't even know," Connie retorts. "I'm here to earn money to send back to my family. I can't risk that."

Christa swallows. _I'm here for… no idea_. _To find out whom Christa is? To die?_

Sasha pulls out a potato from her skirt, stuffing it into her mouth.

"Hey!" Connie protests.

"I want to eat the potato before it gets cold. And before I get locked in the brig," Sasha informs him.

"But why not join us?" Christa persists. _They'd have to let her. They'd have to._ She can talk to Ymir, see if—

"I need to get to the archipelago," Sasha replies. "I would just desert as soon as we reached there."

"Well, you've already stowed away," Christa points out. Connie shakes his head.

"What the hell?" Ymir's voice. Christa gasps, turning to look up at her friend.

"Interesting," Ymir remarks, crossing her arms. "We have an idiot stowaway."

Sasha's face turns pink, but she keeps stuffing the potato into her mouth. Christa remembers being that hungry, the feeling that your stomach's dissolving itself, that you would eat anything, absolutely anything, while all the while her mind taunted her with memories of savory meat and cold milk and sweet berries.

She can't let Sasha suffer in the brig. "You'd be no newer to sailing than I am," she says.

"Are you actually trying to help her?" Ymir demands. "She could be a Marlayan spy!"

Christa shrinks.

"No, she's from Dauper," Connie interrupts.

"Connie, the word 'gullible' is written on the ceiling," Ymir says. Connie looks up and Christa cringes.

"Not funny," Connie snaps.

The ship jolts. Ymir throws her arm out to keep from slamming into the wall. Sasha gasps. _Must have been a big wave,_ Christa probably has a splinter in her palm.

"Are you okay?" Ymir gasps.

"Of course."

"I am from Dauper," Sasha insists around a mouthful of potato. "And I'm not a Marlayan spy. I just—there's no point in staying in Dauper anymore."

"Yeah? Where's your accent?" Ymir demands.

Sasha scowls. "Our game's almost gone, and our way of life's disappearing. I wanted to leave—I heard the islands have a similar way of life—" Her voice sounds different, tilted with a distinct accent. "That good enough for you?" she demands, her voice back to as it was at first.

"You're embarrassed by your accent," Ymir says. "You shouldn't be. Anyone who judges you based on where you're from doesn't deserve your attention."

"Where are _you_ from?" Connie demands, shifting on the deck. "You haven't given any details yourself, Ymir."

"I'm not a stowaway," Ymir retorts. Christa peers up at her. "I have nothing against you—what was your name?"

"Sasha."

"Sasha," Ymir repeats. "I just don't want you getting Christa in trouble."

"What about me?" Connie demands.

"Connie, trouble's going to follow you wherever you go. I may have only known you a few days and yet that is obvious."

 _Are you trying to protect me?_ Christa wonders. _Why?_ Her chest feels strangely light. She gives Ymir a small smile, and after blinking as if startled, Ymir returns it.

"What is going on here, brats?" demands a harsh voice. Christa jumps.

 _Levi_.

Connie gulps. Ymir steps in front of Christa.

Sasha leaps to her feet. "They just caught me," she says. "I stowed away. And I'd like to join your crew now that I'm here."

"What?" Levi's hand goes to his cutlass. Christa tenses.

"Was what I said unclear?" Sasha wonders. "My name's Sasha Braus, and—"

Connie and Ymir exchange glances of horror.

Levi reaches out and grabs Sasha by the arm. "You're—"

"Levi!" calls a voice. A redheaded woman—Petra, if Chrsita remembers correctly—jumps down the ladder. "Oruo's spotted a ship."

"On our tail or are we on hers?" Levi questions, Sasha still in his grip.

"We're running it down."

"Good." Levi hesitates. "Keep a far enough distance not to alarm her, but close enough so that when dawn comes, we can surprise her with a warning shot."

"What about me?" Sasha asks in a tiny voice as Petra heads back up the ladder.

"I'm locking you in the brig until we capture this ship," Levi replies.

Sasha pales. Ymir sucks in her breath.

"After that, you can have your audience with the captain," Levi continues.

 _I'll bring her food and water,_ Christa tells herself, frozen in place. _She won't be there very long—_

"Who are we chasing down?" Connie asks. "A merchant vessel?"

Levi arches an eyebrow. "Do I look as if I can see through the hull?"

"I'm just—she's from Dauper, right?" Connie stammers. "People from that region are usually really good with bows and arrows. If it comes to that—"

"I am _excellent_ with a bow and arrow," Sasha cuts in. Ymir smirks.

"Cannons will do the trick. Merchants would rather have their supplies stolen by pirates than sunken to the bottom of the sea, and they place the highest value on their own lives."

 _Don't you?_ Christa wonders.

"She can help load?" Connie suggests.

"Did you know her before?" Levi demands.

"N-no—"

"He tackled me," Sasha says. "After I stole a potato from the kitchen."

From the look on Levi's face, he's considering multiple interpretations of the word "tackled."

"I can keep an eye on her," Ymir chimes in.

"That," Levi says as he watches Ymir. "I don't doubt." He releases Sasha's arm. Christa grabs the girl to keep her steady. "Fine. Take orders from Nanaba like the rest of them. But Erwin will still hear about this, and questioning a first mate isn't going to look good for any of you."

"We're just trying to—" Connie starts.

"Stop trying, and start obeying," Levi snaps. "Because sooner or later, there will be a battle, and crew members who hesitate are the ones responsible for the seawater flooding the ship."

 _Sooner or later,_ Christa thinks. Her palms slicken with sweat.

"Get ready. Be on deck in five." Levi marches up the ladder.

"Thank you," breathes Sasha.

 _We're chasing a merchant ship._ A shiver rolls through Christa.

 _Can I really rob people?_

* * *

Mikasa cracks her eyes open to the sound of rustling. Their faces, their laughter, fade from her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hopes the sound of their voices, at least, will return. She felt warm there, in her dream.

More rustling.

 _What?_ Mikasa sits bolt upright. A dark figure hurtles from their room, the door banging.

"Hey!" Mikasa bellows, leaping down from her bunk. She grabs the sword and charges out after the figure, which vanishes around the corridor corner. "Who are you?" she shouts.

"Mikasa!" Eren slams into the wall, felled by the rocking ship. His hair's mussed from sleep. "What's—"

"Someone was in our cabin!" She can hear Armin fumbling to light a lamp as she dashes down the corridor and scrambles up the ladder.

Nothing.

The next deck's silent, except for the skittering of rats.

 _They got away._

Heart pounding, Mikasa returns to their cabin. _I won't let them escape next time._

"Nothing's missing," Armin reports. All of their bags stand open, the intruder and Armin both having clearly rifled through them.

"They're clearly an idiot," Eren snorts. "Since we gave all our money to Captain Kirchstein to make it on this goddamn ship."

Mikasa's spine stiffens. _Everyone on board knows we gave Jean the last of what we had._ "They weren't after money."

Armin meets her eyes and nods. The lantern swings around and around above their heads.

"Then what were they after?" Eren demands.

Mikasa reaches out, placing her palm over the bulge in Eren's ragged jacket, the one he slept in. "The map."


	4. The Chase

"This should not be happening," Eren declares. "Who would—"

"Someone _knows_ , Eren!" Armin insists.

"Maybe they just had the wrong room? And were looking for—"

"We're the only passengers," Mikasa interjects. She pinches her scarf with one hand, pulling it up over her nose where her breath creates a warm cocoon for her face. With her other hand, she squeezes the hilt of her sword. _Someone knows._

And that means they'll be coming for Eren.

 _Not if I can do anything about it._

"I'm going to have a word with that Jean," Eren vows, clenching his fist.

 _Wait, what?_ "Eren, is that really wise?" Mikasa asks.

"It's his ship. Surely he can give us a better lock or something," Eren snaps.

"It's more than that!" Armin protests. "We've got to think about this—how to proceed—if someone knows, we have to come up with a plan!"

"They can't know," Eren states. "No, don't look at me like that, Mikasa—I'm not some idiot for you to chastise!"

Mikasa flinches. She drops her eyes to the uneven wooden floor, blinking. _Is that really what you think I think of you?_ Her chest aches.

"But think about it," Eren blusters on. "How could they? No one knows that we have—"

"Unless someone put two and two together in the refugee settlement, about your father's death and us disappearing—if it's a known document, then—"

"Armin, it's a map with parts of the world that, according to official documents, _don't exist,"_ Eren says. "I highly doubt it has a reputation."

Armin clutches his hair. "They could have just said to look for any document with the royal seal, or just for us and to look for evidence we were involved."

"Who?" Mikasa asks, swallowing. _Who's coming for us?_

"The soldiers seem the most likely, except I don't get why they wouldn't just arrest us. Covertness isn't exactly how they operate," Armin muses. "It can't be the crown."

Eren gasps.

"What?" Mikasa demands, unsticking herself from her pride.

"My father—he said this would help fight in the war," Eren says. "Get revenge for my mother. Maybe other people are after it, too. Marlay sympathizers."

A rock settles in Mikasa's stomach. Footsteps echo outside their cabin. They all stiffen.

The footsteps stall outside their door. Mikasa unsheaths her sword, the metal shrieking.

A knock. She yanks it open.

"Whoa!" Marco tumbles as the ship bucks. Mikasa yanks her blade out of the way to avoid impaling the sailor. "I was—just checking on Armin—is everything okay?" He gapes up at Mikasa from his knees.

"Someone broke into our room," Eren says.

Marco's eyes widen in what looks like genuine shock. As mistrustful as Mikasa is of people, she can't bring herself to suspect Marco. " _What?"_

Within minutes, they're ushered up onto the top deck, the scroll a barely discernible bulge in Eren's jacket. "Don't ever take it off you," Mikasa murmurs in his ear. _Shit, did I just tell him what to do again?_

 _Does it matter?_ If telling Eren what to do can keep him alive, can keep him from meeting the same fate as his parents and as Mikasa's, she'll do whatever it takes. Mikasa grits her teeth. Her head throbs, the familiar sensation of a cord tightening around her skull.

But instead of lashing out at her this time, he nods.

The sky looms above them, indigo morning clouds fleeing before what should be a day of sunshine. The sun retains a slightly orange hue as it climbs higher in the sky and the last dregs of night drip away over the horizon.

"What is it?" Jean asks, brushing something off his shoulders. He runs his hand through his hair and eyes Mikasa.

 _What?_ He's someone she might truly call an idiot, for looking at her like that.

"Someone broke into our room," Armin says.

"That's not possible," Jean states. "You have a lock."

"Which someone clearly has a key too," Eren shoots back, and despite the coolness of the morning, heat prickles at Mikasa's arms. "Mikasa saw—"

"Mikasa?" Jean turns to her, eyes wide and sudden concern on his face. "What did you see?"

She relays the tale of the shadowy intruder.

"What did they look like?"

"It was dark. There's not exactly a window below deck," Mikasa says. "I didn't see."

"Build? Gender?"

"I—" Mikasa tries to remember. "Not that tall. I don't—I don't remember." _Stupid_ , she chastises herself. _How can I protect my friends if I'm not noticing the most obvious details?_

She promised Eren's mother. She'll take care of him.

"It's okay," Eren says to her. "It's not your fault. You were just waking up. Armin and I slept through it, so you're better than us."

 _Oh_. Mikasa blinks.

"But we're going to need a new lock," Eren continues. "Because someone on your ship's a thief."

"The only other people on this ship are the soldiers and my crew," Jean shoots back. "Are you implying that I hire thieves?"

"The intrusion into our room implies that."

"Jean—" Marco starts, but Jean waves his hand. Frustrated, Marco hurries over to the stern. He grabs a spyglass from under the helm.

"Giving you passage was a _kindness_ ," Jean spits. "One I'm starting to sincerely regret."

"What are you going to do about it?" Eren taunts. "We've already paid you. When we land at the archipelago we'll be gone."

"How well can you swim?" Jean asks, stepping closer with a smirk.

 _You bastard!_ Mikasa starts forward. Armin grabs her arm.

"You're all talk and no action," Eren retorts, crossing his arms. "You won't do it, and you know it. Because for all your shittiness, you prefer to have someone else wipe away your inconveniences for you. Killing someone directly isn't in your blood. Wealth and fortune and a mommy who loves you are in your blood, right?"

Armin looks green again. Mikasa's heart pounds.

There's no mistaking it. Jean's eyes dart about, but Eren's not wrong. "I can lock you in the brig." He steps forward. "Franz! Hannah!"

 _No!_

"Jean!" shouts Marco from the stern.

"Not now!"

"I'd like to see you try!" Mikasa snarls, pushing in front of Eren. Jean blanches. Clearly, he underestimated her. _Well, I've had it with people like you._

" _Jean!"_ Marco screams now.

Frantic clangs echo. Whoever's atop in the crow's nest rings the bell again and again and again.

A crackle and a boom echo—sounds Mikasa's heard before.

In Fort Shiganshina.

She grabs Eren and throws him to the deck. The impact knocks the wind out of her.

"Warning shot!" Marco hollers.

 _Warning shot?_ Dazed, Mikasa cranes her neck up. Her palms sting from scraping against the deck. Jean's jaw hangs open.

"Pirates," Armin whispers.

* * *

"They're trying to outrun us, Captain," Mike, the enormous second-mate, reports.

The odor of gunpowder stings Christa's nostrils. Her breaths come quick, too quick. She's not felt seasick in the slightest over the past few days, but right now she could vomit.

An arm slings around her shoulders, and warmth presses against her. "We're gonna be okay," Ymir assures her.

"Will _they_ be?" Christa whispers.

Ymir snickers. "Christa, you are the strangest pirate ever." She keeps her arm around her. "Of course, Christa's not your real name, is it?"

Christa's blood runs cold. The wind steals her air.

"Don't worry," Ymir says. "I don't know what your real name is, and I don't plan on telling anybody else, but I will say this: whatever your real name is, you shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"That's easy for you to say," Christa retorts. _There is no place for Historia Reiss anymore. Not if I want to live._

Does she?

She remembers a knife dripping in blood, and the woman who never wanted her but whom Historia always wanted to be held by, wilting in the streets.

" _They might think you did this, bastard."_

"Captain Erwin doesn't needlessly take lives. It's one of the reasons I decided to work under him," Ymir tells her, rubbing Christa's shoulder.

She relaxes into the feel of Ymir's thumb pressing her aching muscles. Sasha follows Connie around the deck, attracting a few strange looks. In the hustle to get up to the deck, Levi forgot to lock Sasha in the brig. Or maybe he doesn't care. "But I heard he sinks ships."

"That's what I heard too, but in Trost, according to the sailors I spoke to, he tries not to kill. He'll take their goods with as little bloodshed as possible." Ymir shrugs. "Maybe it depends."

"Run up the flag," she hears the captain bark out.

"He's so efficient that all the other pirates don't even try to compete with him, or so I've heard," Ymir continues. "If they're chasing a ship and he appears, they back off. Eldia would give anything to capture him, but they aren't able to. Too many people in port cities are still loyal to him, from his time commanding in the army."

"What made him turn to piracy?" Christa questions. The wind whips through her hair, tangling it in so many knots she doubts she'll ever get it to shine again. _And why would you want it to? That's Historia. You're Christa now._

Ymir shakes her head. "I have no idea." She chortles. "Maybe it's just the worst instincts winning out in all of us."

"You don't really believe that."

Ymir's smile vanishes. "No. I don't. I think the best instincts have a chance to win out in someone like you."

 _Me?_ Christa grips her wrist. "Why not you?"

"You can't possibly not know that I am a really shitty person, _Christa_."

"I still like you."

Ymir's mouth hovers open. A snap, and both their eyes turn to see the green flag rippling above them.

"The wings of freedom," Ymir says, her voice thick. She points to the white designs. "Erwin's symbol."

 _My flag, now,_ Christa thinks. _Not Eldia's anymore. The wings of freedom._

"We won't be expected to board, I don't think," Ymir adds. Christa watches as the ship ahead of them grows from a dot to a solid shape.

"They won't be able to outrun us very long."

"An hour at most," Reiner confirms as he appears beside them, Bertolt behind him. "Here," Reiner says, pressing the hilt of a dagger into Christa's hand. "Just in case."

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to stop this from happening?" Eren shouts, watching as the green flag and the black ship under it sail closer and closer. He whirls around to face the three useless soldiers, his hand gripping the rail.

Another warning shot rips through the air, splashing just off their stern.

Annie Leonhart casts him a scornful glance and steps closer, her face inches from his own. Her crystal blue eyes shift like the ocean with choppy waves. "We're nothing more than fodder for the government. Does that make you happy to hear? We go with merchants to appease their companies, not because we can actually do anything besides shoot pirates who step on board."

"It's not your fault," Armin says quietly. He leans over and vomits again. Mikasa grasps his hair.

"I am _sorry_ ," Annie tells Eren, her voice brittle.

"You shouldn't shoot," Armin gasps out.

She stiffens. All the sails Jean has on this ship flap overhead, but it won't be enough. The wind gives the advantage to the pirates.

"If you shoot, they'll think we're hostile and kill us all. If we can play deferential and surrender, we'll lose the cargo, but we—can get away with our lives." Armin wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

Hope sparks inside Eren. He just needs to conceal the map—

Annie studies Armin. He pleads with her: "It's the only way."

She gives a brisk nod. "I agree. I'll tell Marlowe and Hitch." She heads over to her companions, who retreated from Eren and his outburst.

"Easy for you to say!" yells Jean. Eren whirls around to see him glaring, red-faced. "You don't _have_ anything," he says, voice cracking as he looks from Eren to Mikasa to Armin. "I have—this _is_ —my life."

Eren's blood boils. He marches over to the arrogant captain, grabbing him by the collar.

"Hey—stop!" Marco cries out.

"Get your hands off me!" Jean splutters, pushing back against Eren, but while Jean's taller, Eren's stronger and _goddammit_ , he's going to say what he's going to say.

"Listen to me," Eren grinds out. "Your life isn't in the pearls and silver candlesticks and soaps and grains you have below. Your life is in your blood and in your breath and whether or not you want to keep it is up to you. But look all around you. Look at your crew." The couple—Franz and Hannah—cry in each others' arms. A girl with dark pigtails vomits onto the deck, unable to make it to the railing. "They have more to their lives than you. They don't want to give them up just yet. And you and I both know the rumors about Erwin Smith. He might spare us if we surrender—ships that don't surrender get sunk. If you don't care enough about your own ass that's one thing, but I have people I _care_ about on this ship, so _do it for them!"_ He's screaming as he looks at Mikasa and Armin.

"That's not all Erwin Smith usually does," Jean ekes out, his face gray. "Half the time he demands the sailors join him."

 _What?_ Eren releases Jean. He stumbles back.

"Jean," Marco shouts as he pounds over to them. "Jean—we can't run for more than twenty more minutes."

Jean rubs the back of his head. His breath comes harsh, as if he's crying, but his eyes stay dry.

Mikasa slips closer to Eren. Tears fill her eyes.

"Do we run out the guns or surrender?" Marco asks desperately. "The crew needs to know what to do."

"What would you do?" Jean asks him.

Marco's jaw drops. "Well—"

"Never mind. I already know what you would do," Jean cuts in. "Do it. Change the flag. To white." He presses his fists against his eyes, shoulders hunched.

"I'm sorry," Eren says quietly. "But you're doing the right thing."

Jean stumbles away from him.

"We need to get below deck," Mikasa says, drawing her sword. Her eyes flash. "To the cabin. I'm not letting them take either of you."

"Mikasa, we've already established that the cabin's useless," Eren points out.

"The soldiers might be killed," Armin whispers. "They're most at risk. Them, and Jean."

Eren's stomach twists. "We have extra clothes, don't we?"

Mikasa nods. Armin surges down the deck, waving to get Annie's attention.

A snap. Above them, the flag of Eldia falls and white takes its place.

 _Surrender_.

"Everyone line up!" Jean barks. "No one—and I mean no one—is to fire a shot at them, or challenge them. Defer to them and they might let us go, okay?"

"What's the point if they're going to take our livelihood?" Thomas Wagner shouts. "We don't have another way of earning money, Jean!"

The guilt riddling Jean's face chafes at Eren. He gulps the salty, smoky air.

"No!" Jean shouts to the soldiers, who head with Armin towards one of the hatches. "You stay up here!"

"What?" Armin cries out. "That's putting their lives at—we can disguise them!"

"They're going to find muskets with the royal insignia and demand they be identified anyways!" Jean yells. "Their best chance is to stay up here!"

"I don't think so," Armin says calmly. "I think—"

"I'll take my chances," Marlowe, the one with the ugly haircut, declares. He sets his jaw. "I don't need to hide who I am."

"You do need to keep your mouth shut, though!" screams Hitch, gripping his arm.

"If you want to go down in this uniform," Annie says, brushing her bangs back. "I'll give it a go as well."

Armin shakes his head. Eren glances at Mikasa in despair. There's nothing they can do. Nothing except wait, and hope. He presses his hand in his pocket, poking his fingertip with the edge of the map.

"I'm glad you're here," Mikasa says, her voice catching.

"I'm always here," he says. Armin staggers over to join them.

" _Heave to!"_

The ships groan and rollick as they're lashing together. Pirates fly over on ropes, slamming onto the deck. Eren catches his breath. He recognizes the one striding over the Jean— _Levi_. The most fearsome pirate alive, the muscle to Erwin's brains. In the refugee settlements, rumors came that he was superhuman.

Levi draws his cutlass, aiming it at Jean's throat. Eren clutches Mikasa's hand. She inhales.

"Take us below deck," he orders. "And if you leave anything out, we'll know."

"Jewels and weapons," commands an imposing man, almost a foot taller than Eren himself. He sniffs the air, as if he smells something bad.

Annie hands over her musket, as do Marlowe and Hitch. Jean and Levi are still below deck, and more pirates follow them. Then they wait, no one daring to make a sound. Waves splash and hulls creak, and every now and then someone lets out an involuntary gasp.

Whoops come from below. Levi and the other pirates emerge, arms stuffed with goods. Jean comes up as well, trembling. Levi directs him to stand with his crew.

"I'll take that," the tall man says, gathering the chest Levi's carrying in his arms.

Another thud as one more pirate lands. Eren's heart skips a beat. _Erwin Smith._ His yellow hair glints in the sun, and one of his sleeves hangs limp, armless. Instead of ordering his men around, he heads under with them, helping unload the cargo.

It takes an hour for him to speak.

"What's your name, Captain?" he addresses Jean.

"Jean Kirschstein," Jean ekes out.

"Jean Kirschstein," Erwin repeats. "And you have three soldiers on board?"

Jean gives a small nod.

"And three refugees." Erwin strokes his chin, taking in Eren, Mikasa, and Armin.

Eren clenches his jaw as he glares. _How could you tell?_

"That one looks wild," Levi comments, appearing behind his captain.

 _Me?_

"What are you thinking?" Erwin invites him.

"I'm thinking…" _Why not let it all out?_ "You may think it's merciful to leave someone alive, but you're still a pirate hurting people who depend on these grains and trade for survival."

Armin squeaks. Jean's jaw hangs open.

"Take him on board," Erwin orders. "Him, and the other refugees, the soldiers, and the captain."

"Jean!" Marco steps forward.

"Who is this?" Erwin asks as two pirates, one dark and one fair, grasp Marco's arms and hold him back.

"My first mate," Jean says, still defiant even in Levi's grasp. "Or he would have been."

"Does your first mate have a name?" Levi asks.

"Marco Bott," Marco states.

"Take him as well," Erwin answers. "In three days, if you head to the ruins at Utgard," he calls over his shoulder to the crew. "You may find your captain and the others there. Unless they've decided to serve under the wings of freedom."

Mikasa clutches her hip. _She gave up her sword,_ Eren realizes. Nausea undulates as Levi beckons him forward and he has no response but to obey.

Levi grabs Eren and Mikasa by the waists. Erwin takes Marco and Jean, and the tall one Annie and Armin. Another soldier, older and with a deep scowl, takes a sobbing Hitch and slack-jawed Marlowe. They soar over the ocean, landing on the enemy deck.

Erwin barks orders as Eren gets to his feet, wincing. Six kids around his age aim swords at them all. Eren raises his hand slowly. The map's still there. He can feel it.

And he can feel the wind, scraping his face as they sail away from Jean's ship. Jean gapes after it.

"Well?" Jean demands at last, turning to the pirates training their weapons on them. One of the girls, a small blonde one, looks as if she can barely hold the weight of the sword. "What are you going to do with us? What takes three days?"

Five cannon booms rock the air, one right after another. Eren whirls around, Mikasa's grip strong on his arm.

"No!" Jean screams.

Smoke.

The sound of wood cracking.

Black smoke erupts from Jean's ship, now a twisted pile of broken wood smoldering against the waves.

 _They're all dead,_ Eren realizes. _All the crew…_

 _They're_ dead _._

"This can't be!" Marco cries out.

"You _liars!"_ Eren erupts, pushing past the small blonde pirate and charging at Captain Erwin and Levi. He barely makes it three steps before he's tackled. His jaw slams into the deck, splinters shoving into his chin. "You sons of—"

"We," Levi states, marching past him. "Did not fire those cannons."

"You—" He yanks his head up, spitting blood. _Must've bitten my tongue_. The captain lowers a spyglass from his eye.

"It's the Marlay," Erwin announces. "They sunk your ship, Captain Kirchstein."

 _The Marlay? In these waters?_

 _That's not possible!_

"Unfurl every sail!"

" _Promise me," Father said. "It's on you now."_


	5. The Brig

Armin gapes at the other ship, a dark hull shockingly close for no one to have noticed it. _But I guess we were all distracted._

"They're this close?" Jean croaks. "How? I thought the Marlay stayed in the south—went for the mainland—"

"Maybe they're changing their strategy," Armin muses. A boom echoes, and the deck shudders. _We fired on them,_ he realizes.

"How about you drop those guns?" Marco suggests to the crew of young pirates surrounding them. The huge blond boy eases off of Eren, who gets to his knees and rubs his back.

"We can help," Eren spits out.

"Help?" snorts a redheaded woman as she jogs past.

"We don't want to end up on the bottom of the sea, either!" Armin calls out. His heart throbs. _All those sailors—all Jean's sailors… Mina and Franz and Samuel and Hannah... Daz...  
_

"Throw them in the brig and go help load cannons," orders the redhead. She leaps onto the main mast, climbing high.

 _No!_ "If we're going to die, don't you think we have the right to die breathing seeing it coming?" Armin shouts. Jean casts him a strange look.

"There are only eight of us," Jean adds. "And we're unarmed. What can we even do to you guys?"

Marlowe blanches. Armin narrows his eyes at him. _You want to die?_

"You know how to load a cannon?" asks a tall, dark-haired girl with freckles, as she clutches the blond girl's shoulder.

"I do," Marco answers. Jean, Annie, Marlowe and Hitch all nod. Mikasa shakes her head.

"No," Armin admits.

"Well, you can learn," offers a short buy with a shaved head as he sets his musket down. "Come on."

 _They're letting us help?_ Relief surges through Armin, followed almost immediately by a roll of nausea. _We're going to kill people now. Even if they're Marlayan, they're still people, and we_ —

Mikasa sprints over to grasp Eren by the wrist. _They can't die._ Armin squeezes his eyes shut. _I have to do this._

The younger pirates lead them down the ladder, to a deck loaded with cannons. _This ship used to be a naval vessel,_ Armin realizes. _It has its own gun deck_.

They scramble over to one cannon. A sour stench sets Armin's stomach churning, but he can't—he _can't_ get sick now. Staying alive is his only priority—that, and keeping everyone else from the _Rogue Titan_ alive.

"Here!" A young man with long blond hair thrusts canvas bags at them. Annie snatches it. "I'll show you what to do," she hisses to the three of them.

"Are we giving them gunpowder?" hollers the blond.

"What're they going to do, blow themselves up?" returns another pirate. "We need all the hands we have, Eld."

The boy who tackled Eren points them to one of the cannons. Hitch and Marlowe join the two girls, and Jean and Marco join the tall boy, the one with a shaved head, and a girl who looks about as clueless as Armin feels.

"Watch me carefully so you don't blow your hands off," the blond boy orders them. "I'm Reiner."

"I'm Annie, and I know how to load a cannon," Annie retorts.

Armin's jaw drops. Eren smirks.

"Well, then, shove the gunpowder in," Reiner invites, thrusting the bag at her. Annie rolls her eyes and does exactly that while Reiner scrambles off to the side, coming back with a strange wooden tool shape like a funnel.

"Push it all the way back," he orders Eren. Eren scowls and obeys.

" _Fire at will!"_ the pirate who'd scolded Eld bellows.

Reiner taps Armin on the shoulder. "Grab one of those cloths." He sends Mikasa to grab cannonballs.

The explosions of cannons firing all around them tear at Armin's ears. Scraps of fabric lie against the wide of the hull, crumpled on the deck. Armin grabs one and pushes it into the cannon. Using the wooden tool, Eren jabs it in deeper, and Mikasa dumps the cannonball in.

 _Is it really this complicated?_ Armin wonders as Annie pokes a pick into the top.

"Get a sponge," Reiner commands Armin. He scrambles to grab a long wooden pole with a sponge attached. Marlowe runs by him, face ghost-white, and dips his sponge in a bucket of murky water. Armin follows suit, heart pounding.

Reiner and Annie maneuver the cannon, aiming it. Armin spots Jean and Marco covering their ears as their cannon fires.

"Got it, Eren?" Reiner calls.

"I can do it," Mikasa says quickly, reaching for the match in Eren's hand.

"I've got it," Eren snaps. He holds the tool to the small hole in the top of the cannon.

With a crack and a boom, the cannon fires. Eren jumps back.

 _He still has all his fingers,_ Armin thinks in relief.

"We missed," Mikasa says coldly.

"We won't miss next time," Reiner vows. He beckons to Armin. "Clean the residue. Get it all out and fast or it'll explode before we want it to."

"He'll be fine," Annie says in a tight voice.

 _Oh._ Armin jabs the sponge into the cannon's mouth, wiping away the scorched remains of that rag he'd stuffed in.

"Again," Reiner orders. "Same jobs."

Annie takes off to grab more powder, Armin to grab a rag and to wet his sponge.

"The wind's on our side," Reiner comments. "We shouldn't have to do this long."

Sweat beads Armin's skin. The singed scent of gunpowder fills the air, and his ears thrum with each cannon blast. _Maybe we won't have to kill many of them. Maybe no one will die._

 _But the Marlay..._

 _Are_ here. _They've come this far south._

 _Are they taking advantage of what happened to the royal family?_

"Get down!" someone screams, and Armin whirls to see the boy with the shaved head being tackled by the girl with huge eyes. He slams into the deck himself, Annie pinning him down. Wood splinters.

 _We're hit,_ Armin realizes. He gags, hacking as he tries to breath. Blood rushes through his head, but he can't hear anything else.

"Who's injured?" bellows a voice.

Armin struggles to his knees. Annie rolling off him.

"Fire!" Reiner shouts.

Their cannon shoots, and Shaved Head gingerly gets to his knees. "Just some scrapes and bruises!" he reports. Marco pulls Jean to his feet, and the brunette pirate girl in the yellow dress rises too, blood streaking her shoulder.

 _Shit._

"Take her to Hange!" shouts Reiner.

It doesn't look too bad, but the bald boy still grabs her by the other arm, hauling her away. Jean and Marco look at each other and immediately head to work themselves, with the tall boy helping them.

"Hold your fire!" bellows Eld.

Armin pauses, fists clenched around the stick with the sponge.

"We're out of range now," Eld says. "Wind's favorable, too."

"You mean we'll get away?" Eren asks.

"It looks good. And we're a faster ship than the _Beast_."

Armin wilts in relief.

"You did well," Annie comments from next to him.

 _This isn't your first battle, is it?_ Armin realizes. _Was your hometown attacked by the Marlay as well?_ He's never minded talking about it, and neither has Eren, but he remembers other people in the refugee settlement, silent except for the fact that the ghosts screaming in their eyes told their stories.

* * *

"I'm impressed," Captain Erwin comments as he paces in front of them. The entire crew gathers on deck, Sasha with a bloodied bandage over her shoulder. Christa's relieved that nothing too terrible happened to the poor girl. The waters spread around them, azure like the sky, and with no trace of the other ship in sight.

 _The Marlay are here._ And they sunk a merchant ship, murdering the innocent people on board. It's a dizzying revelation, and one her father should know about. Except he never wants to acknowledge that she even exists ever again.

"Considering this is most of your first times on the sea, you did quite well," Erwin informs the new crewmembers. "You have my gratitude."

 _Gratitude?_ Christa blinks. She was terrified the entire time.

Terrified, but she didn't freeze.

"And you," Erwin adds, stepping closer to Sasha. "Stowaway."

Sasha gulps.

"Hange said your wound is not too deep."

"It's not, sir," Sasha stammers.

"Good. If you'd like to join our crew, we'd be honored to have you." He holds out his hand, and Sasha takes it, a grin splitting her face. Connie smiles.

"He really acts like more of a naval captain than a pirate," Ymir murmurs in Christa's ear. "Save for, you know, plundering."

She nods. She finds it confusing.

"However, you did all break Petra's orders when it comes to our guests."

"That was my decision, Captain," Connie says, stepping forward. "I thought we could use the help."

"Mine too," Ymir says. "Aw, the hell with it, we all decided."

"Are you still planning to lock us up?" Jean asks, crossing his arms. "And tell us why you even took us on board?"

"Well, if he hadn't, you'd be dead," Levi puts in.

Jean shrugs, his face tightening. "Most of my sailors _are_ dead."

Christa's heart aches.

"I'm sorry," Erwin says, jaw set.

"Is this a common occurrence?" the dark haired boy who ran at Erwin earlier demands. "For Marlay to shoot merchant ships?"

"Yes," Erwin answers.

"You're lying," Hitch, one of the soldiers who worked with Christa and Ymir, declares.

Erwin arches an eyebrow. "I'm not."

"How many times?" Eren demands, his hands curling into fists.

"More than I can count."

Christa feels the blood draining from her face. _We're really losing this war, aren't we? More than Eldia even knows._

 _But how can they not know?_

"What benefit do _we_ bring you, though?" Marco, the one with freckles, asks. "I don't understand why you brought us on board."

"I brought the soldiers and the refugees because they may have information that could be handy. I brought the captain because I knew your men wouldn't be as equipped to chase after us without you there, and you seem hotheaded and brave enough to actually consider doing something like that, especially if we had your friends." Erwin leans against the helm. "And I _also_ brought you, Marco Bott, because you seem brave and like exactly the kind of man we try to recruit."

Marco flushes. "I'm no pirate. I want an honest life."

"Who says those are mutually exclusive?" The wind whips through Erwin's hair. Christa squints against the sun. "Can you claim all your dealings as a merchant will be honest, Jean?"

Jean hunches his shoulders.

"And you know very little about your company," Erwin tells them.

"What do you mean?" Jean demands.

"We'll talk later." Erwin clears his throat. "Levi, take them to get water and tack in the kitchen."

Levi scowls. "Fine."

"And search them," he adds, gripping the helm with his one arm. "Before they go below."

Annie rolls her eyes, but holds her hands up as Petra moves in to pat her down.

"What's this?" demands Eld as he pulls a piece of paper out of Eren's pocket. He holds it up towards the sun to read.

"Careful!" Eren shouts. "And that's none of your—"

A stricken look crosses Eld's face. "Captain!"

Erwin turns back around.

"This kid's got a map. With the royal seal on it."

Everyone's head swivels to Eren. Even his fellow captives look shocked. Christa feels as if every muscle in her body is solidifying into bone. _The royal seal?_

 _How did you get that?_

* * *

It's too dark to see his hand in front of his face. Eren cringes. The ship lurches, and he tumbles to the floor of the brig, hands slamming against the grimy deck. He reaches out, flailing until he grasps the rusted iron bars to haul himself back to his feet.

Something darts across his foot. Eren gasps. The pungent scents of vomit and waste press in around him.

 _Mikasa—Armin—_ Eren tries to calm himself. He can't have been locked down here for longer than a few hours— _right?_

 _What if it's been a day?_

There are no windows, and no light—no way to tell. _Where are they?_ Eren just hopes they're okay, that they haven't been dragged into this mess. Although he can't imagine why they wouldn't have been.

 _The look on Levi's face_. Eren shudders. But these pirates can't care a lick about the crown. Why are they arresting him?

Footsteps pound. Eren tenses.

A lantern bobs. Levi and Captain Erwin both head over to him. Rats skitter against the deck as they flee from the light.

The two pirates lean against the cell across from him. The cells look like rusted cages, and there are four of them, about three paces wide in each direction. _Why so many?_

"Are my friends okay?" Eren blurts out, his teeth chattering. _Oh shit—what if this makes them think that they're involved?_ "They didn't know about the—"

"Save your lies," Levi snaps, shoving the back of his boot between the bars.

"They're well," responds Erwin. He surveys Eren with an impenetrable gaze, as if he's trying to gauge what exactly Eren's made of, his bones and blood and courage and idiocy. He'd be better off asking Mikasa. "How did you get the scroll?"

"We'll know if you lie to us," Levi adds.

Eren doesn't doubt it. "My father gave it to me."

The hull creaks and lurches again. Eren stumbles, gripping the bars.

"And?" Levi prompts.

He folds his arms.

"Look, kid, if you don't tell us, we'll haul your friends down here too. Armin Arlert and Mikasa Ackerman, right?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Eren bellows.

Levi arches an eyebrow. "Try me."

 _"Levi."_ Erwin sighs. "Eren, we're very curious. We would like to know if it's possible for us to help you."

 _Help—me?_ Eren blinks. _What should I do?_ If only Armin were here to give advice.

"Well?" Levi 's gaze remains unwavering.

 _Damn it all._ "He said it would help me avenge my mother. He made me promise—" Eren grits his teeth. "To do it. My mother died in the fall of Fort Shiganshina. A cannon hit our home—" His breath catches.

"When?" Erwin demands.

Eren swallows.

"The captain asked you a question, brat," Levi says.

He knows Erwin isn't asking about Shiganshina; any fool on the streets knows when that happened. He's asking about the map. "The night the royal family was murdered," Eren whispers.

Erwin glances at Levi. Shadows hide his expression.

"I didn't—I don't—he left in the morning and said he was seeing a patient—he's a doctor—he _was_ a doctor—and he came and got me at night, late at night, and he was bleeding and I—" _didn't notice, because I'm the worst possible son_. "And he died there, in the woods, and Armin noticed the seal and suggested we go there."

"To this place?" Erwin reaches into his pocket and unfurls the scroll. He taps the black _x_ on the imaginary island.

Eren presses his face against the bars, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know it doesn't technically exist—"

"What's _technically?"_ Levi questions. "Half the world doesn't exist according to the official Eldian maps. At least the ones they let commoners see."

"Huh?" Eren jerks his head up. _Really?_

"What are you after, really?" Erwin persists. The hull groans. "Revenge?"

Eren hesitates. "I want—to find out what's at the coordinates on that map. Armin thinks it's something that could impact the war effort."

"Does he?" Erwin strokes his chin.

"So I guess I'd… use it."

"To defeat the Marlay?" Levi asks.

"They killed my mother."

"And if whatever's buried reveals something else entirely? Something that impacts the war in a way you hadn't anticipated?" Erwin questions.

"You know something," Eren gasps.

Levi smirks. Erwin shakes his head. "I don't have the slightest idea what might be buried there. I only know that many things in this world, Eren Jaeger, aren't what you think."

"Like what?" Eren demands.

Levi snorts. "You don't have questions about why the Eldian monarchs are publishing maps that are clearly erasing several real landmarks? Because while we've never sailed this far north, to this island, I can assure you that these extra clusters of land around the islands _do_ exist, despite never showing up on Eldian maps. And have you questioned why the Eldians don't seem to acknowledge that the Marlay sail closer than they'd ever admit, and attack merchant ships?"

Eren presses his lips together. His fingertips tingle. "You said that wasn't the first time they attacked a merchant ship."

"It wasn't," Erwin confirms.

"The sinkings of all those merchant ships attributed to you—are they actually the Marlayans' doing?" Eren shakes his head. It's never made sense—the contradictory reports of Erwin Smith as a pirate who spares crews' lives, and who sinks other ships entirely. "And if so, why wouldn't Eldia seize that and use it to—"

"One sinking is my doing," Erwin admits.

"And the rest—are the _Marlays'_?"

"The _Beast_ ship's," Erwin says. "We don't know it's real name. It's a Marlayan vessel with a beast carved on the bow. We don't know whether they're acting on Marlayan orders or their own principles, as we are Eldian and act on our own principles."

Eren frowns.

"So what is it you want?" Levi asks, tugging his boot out.

"I want—to find out what's on that island. And figure out how to use it," Eren repeats. Levi looks pleased, though his expression largely remains sour.

"Are you willing to work with a rogue naval captain and his crew to get there?" Erwin questions.

Eren's heart leaps. "You'd take us there?"

He nods. "Straight away."

"Yes," Eren blurts out. "Yes, I would be _honored_ to work with you."

Erwin's eyebrows fly up at his use of the word _honored_. "Well then. Levi?"

Levi steps forward, removing a set of keys from his waistband. He unlocks the cell door, which squeals as he opens it. Eren stumbles out.

"Here." Erwin holds out the scroll. "Take it."

"Thank you." Eren takes it and hesitates. "I have one more request."

"This isn't a negotiation," Levi snaps.

"Your crew took my friend's sword from her. She'd probably like it back."

"Your friend?"

"Mikasa Ackerman. She and Armin will work with us, I'm sure."

Levi pales, his eyes darting about reaching to unhook the lantern. Erwin frowns at his friend. "We'll see to it that it's returned."

"And the others?" Eren presses. "Jean, and Marco, and the other soldiers—"

"They'll have to stay with us while we sail towards the island on this map," Erwin responds. "After that, we'll set them free should they want to leave. If we were to drop them off at Utgard, no one would rescue them for months."

"And while they're here?"

"They can work," Levi says as he climbs up the ladder. Eren follows. "Or be locked in the brig."


	6. The Truth

"I believe this belongs to you," Levi says, holding out a sword with a golden hilt to Mikasa.

Jean watches as her eyes narrow, but she reaches out to take the sword nonetheless. Eren appears, scrambling down the ladder.

"Eren!" she shrieks, running to him and throwing her arms around him. Armin follows her, and Jean's left to bitterly wish he were in Eren's shoes. _I'm pathetic. Wishing to exchange places with a refugee who lost his parents in terrible ways._

Thomas's face fills his mind. And Samuel's, Franz's, Hannah's, Mina's… _they're dead._ It still doesn't feel real.

Did it hurt? Did they even realize what was happening?

What would it be like, to realize you were about to die?

"Did they hurt you?" Mikasa blurts out.

"No," Eren answers, eyes shining. He straightens. "They're going to take us there."

"Where?" Jean interrupts. "The archipelago?" _Why am I still alive?_

"Nearby," Eren answers.

"Eren, are they really?" Armin asks in disbelief. The ship bucks, as if the water's growing choppier.

"What are you talking about?" Reiner, the pirate Jean can't help but actually like because he gave Armin a drink of water and told Jean he was sorry for what happened to his crew, asks.

"I'm on a mission," Eren declares.

 _Oh, brother._ Jean could gag.

Eren plucks out the scroll they took from him earlier. Levi departs. "My father said that whatever's located here on the map will help end the war."

"What?" breathes Christa, the pretty blond pirate. Ymir, her constant shadow, frowns.

"And how did he get something with the royal seal?" Marlowe demands. Jean sees shame still riddling both him and Hitch's face. He hardly expected it, especially from Hitch—he heard after she was assigned that rumor has it she slept her way into each assignment. Although Jean's seen nothing to suggest that might be true. Both Marlowe and Annie treat her with respect, and she's clearly devastated over their failure to protect Jean's ship. Not that they could have.

 _We were set up for failure._ Jean grits his teeth.

"My… father," Eren whispers.

"Was he involved with—" Reiner starts.

"I don't know," Eren admits, clutching his head. Armin bites his lip. Christa lowers her eyes.

"You don't know?' Jean asks incredulously. "How can you not know?"

"Because he was dying!" Eren shouts. "I didn't have time to ask him!"

"I'm so sorry," Marco says. Sincerely.

 _He knew he was dying, and asked for... this?_

"But they really think that whatever's buried there can help end the war?" Reiner asks with interest. " _How?_ Any ideas as to what it might be?"

Eren shakes his head. "Captain Erwin seemed to think it worth pursuing, so—"

"Well," Connie, the short pirate, says as he settles back onto a hammock. "This could be interesting. I assume we'll plunder some ships to finance our way north, right?"

"It's far more interesting to me than piracy," says Sasha, flipping her long ponytail. She munches on a piece of hard tack. "Maybe I'll stay on after all."

Bertolt nods. He catches Jean looking at him and gives an awkward smile.

"Well, I still need to make money to send home," Connie admits. "But I agree."

 _What made you all choose this life?_ Jean wants to ask, but he can't bring himself to say the words. _I'm a prisoner. I'm going to be forced into potential treason._ He looks down at himself, still in his captain's uniform, slightly singed. He should tear it off.

" _Working for them is better than ending up in the brig," Marco encouraged earlier, as they prepared to sign themselves into service._

Jean agreed then, however reluctantly, and now— _what was I thinking?_

Without another word, Jean turns and marches off, heading up the ladder. This ship ironically smells cleaner than the sour stench pervading the _Rogue Titan_. _Look at what you're becoming._

"Where are you going?" demands a gruff voice. Jean whirls around, squinting in the dimness to see Oruo, that pirate with permanent frown lies on his face. He, like the redheaded girl with him, carry themselves as if they were former soldiers.

"Up on deck," Jean retorts. "I signed that document. I'm not a prisoner."

"Then why do you consider yourself one?" questions the redhead. _Petra_. That's her name.

Jean's face burns. "Shut up."

"Don't talk to her like that!" Oruo shouts. "On this ship, you respect your superiors!"

"She's a pirate," Jean retorts, and almost instantly, his stomach nosedives and he realizes his mistake.

"You are now, too," Oruo snaps. "I think a day or so in the brig might do you some good."

Blood boils. "Aren't you ashamed, seeing real soldiers?" he shouts. "Down below, we have three—and you—"

"Grab him," Oruo orders Petra. "I'll get Levi."

She lunges at him. Jean stumbles backwards, hands raised.

"Stop!" cries a voice. Petra's arm presses against Jean's throat. He gags, pinned to the wall. _Marco?_

"Don't tell us to stop!" Oruo snarls. "He's been nothing but rude and divisive, and we don't tolerate—"

Jean opens his mouth to laugh, but Marco cuts him off. "Please! He was the captain of the _Rogue Titan_. He lost his entire crew, almost entirely. How would you feel if you lost your entire crew? He's not clear-headed at the moment."

 _What?_ Jean glares.

Petra pinches her lips, as if she's actually considering it.

"Insubordination isn't tolerated," Oruo repeats. Shadows slide back and forth over his face.

"Then I'll take it, if you'll let me." Marco steps forward, holding out his arms, hands limp. A lantern glistens behind him. "Lock me in the brig. Please. Instead of him."

"What?" Jean cries out.

"With a heart that pure, you're going to get yourself killed," Petra says, her eyes wide.

"Huh?" Oruo shakes his head.

"I was part of his crew, so I can—"

"Everyone on this ship answers for their own actions," Oruo snaps.

"But I—"

"Let him go, Petra," Oruo orders.

 _What?_ Jean gulps in air. The ship bucks, and Jean stumbles as Petra releases him.

"You can go too," Oruo orders. "I don't want to lock you up." He gives Marco a nod, almost as if to say he respects him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Jean demands. As Marco turns to look at him, hurt on his face, Jean can't take it. Shame squeezes him from the inside, hot and prickly.

He charges up the ladder and onto the deck. It's dark by now, and misty. He stumbles and trips, falling to the wood. His elbow slams into a tied barrel, and he gasps at the sharp jolt of pain.

"Jean!" Marco shouts.

 _Idiot!_ Jean drags himself up and over to the rail. He doesn't want Marco to see him right now. He doesn't want anyone to see him right now, with hot tears leaking from his eyes and streaming down his face. He can't even make out the ocean, but somewhere out there are the bodies of his crew. Probably being eaten by fish, whatever limbs and such are left. His stomach turns, and he retches.

"Do you want me to go away?" Marco calls from behind him.

 _Yes!_ Jean wants to shout. But he tenses his shoulders, his jaw. He can't force the word out. _Why did you do that?_

He can hear Marco approaching, leaning over the rail next to him. Marco says nothing, but Jean sees his shoulders shaking. _He's crying, too?_

His shame melts away, Marco's tears like rain melting the sludge off his skin. "What could I have done differently?" Jean croaks out.

"Nothing," Marco says quietly. "Anything different, and you'd have died with them."

"I _should_ have. I'm their captain."

"That's why I admire you," Marco says. He turns to face Jean. "And it proves you're a good leader. But you couldn't have stayed with them. You had no choice." His hand lands on Jean's damp shirt, squeezing his shoulder.

Jean lets out a shuddering breath. _I have to live with what life's given me. "_ I just—I don't want to live in a way that disappoints them." _And working with these pirates…_

"What do you think the best way to honor them is?" Marco questions. The mist soaks his hair, plastering it to his forehead. His eyes gleam in the darkness. Jean can't help noticing how his wet shirt clings to his frame.

Jean blinks, confused. _Remember_.

 _The Marlay killed them_. Jean meets Marco's eyes. "Winning this war."

 _And the most direct way I have to do that right now is by working with these pirates._

 _So be it._

* * *

"So," Hange says as Levi appears in the grimy med bay, bucket in hand. Dark stains mar the wood, and it reeks of blood.

His nose wrinkles. _If you never clean, how do you not infect everyone you treat?_

"That girl's last name is Ackerman," Hange says as she holds up a jar full of bullets she's pulled out of people. "A relation?"

"Presumably," Levi answers, plunking the bucket down on the floor. "Distantly."

"Are you going to tell her?" Hange squints.

"Not sure there's a point." Levi grabs a sponge and ducks it in the bucket. _I am going to get these stains out if it is the last thing my shoulders ever do._

Hange frowns, studying him. She adjusts her spectacles. "She said Eren Jaeger is her family, right?"

"Yeah, but they aren't blood related." Levi scrubs the surface. "The blond kid said that his family took her in after her parents were killed by human traffickers."

Hange glances sharply at him.

"Apparently she and Jaeger killed the traffickers. At nine years old, before Fort Shiganshina fell." Levi scowls. It's disturbing, to think of nine-year-olds stabbing adults dead, even if they deserved it. Although, at a far younger age, he watched the man who was either his uncle or his father or maybe, maybe it's all wishful childish thinking and he's nothing to Levi but a murderer with a strangely sympathetic heart for starving kids and a heart for murder for nearly everyone else.

"Do you ever wonder if that's what happened to your mother?"

Levi stiffens. "No."

Hange reaches into the water, now tinted with a rust-like color, and soaks her own sponge.

"I really don't think so," he snaps. _Stop with your sympathy_. "I think she—had no other options. Like most thugs and smugglers and pirates and prostitutes. We don't have options, so we try to climb to the top with the minimal options given to us. I'd still be a smuggler and a thief if Erwin hadn't recruited me." _Ironically, we're all now thieves._ He smirks.

 _Kill Erwin,_ the councilman ordered, bribing him with medicine for his friend and gold coins. It was the first sign that the military was beginning to turn on Erwin, and the crown was not working for Eldia's best interests. And yet Erwin continued to serve them, until he couldn't do so anymore, only weeks after Levi lost his duel with Erwin and Erwin won his unending loyalty for refusing to kill Levi.

It remains his only defeat.

"It is so exciting that we finally have a direction to head in," Hange gushes, changing the subject.

Levi grunts.

"Do you think whoever captains the Beast ship knows about—whatever it is that's buried there?" Hange questions. "Because we'll see it again."

Levi scowls, imagining that ship, made of wood so dark it appears almost black and the creepy monkey-like beast on the bow, lurching out over the water with its unnatural proportions. "And not to mention the crown will receive word of the merchant ship's sinking. And fault us. If they find out we were in Trost when the royal heirs were killed I'm sure they'll blame us for that, too." _Once we dig up whatever kind of evidence is there, I'm sure they'll find some way to spin it to make us look like traitors still._

But Erwin's in charge, and Levi trusts Erwin to plan ahead for that. None of them are particularly eager to die.

"Our ship is faster than any ship the navy can send," Hange says.

Levi nods. The stains are finally beginning to fade.

"I remember what the crown did to Pastor Nick," Hange adds, her eyes glittering.

Levi remembers that pastor they rescued from a shipwreck—also blown apart by the Marlay—the one who finally told them the truth, or at least as much of it as he could tell them. They dropped him off at a small island port of Ehrmich and came back to find him tortured and murdered last month.

"That's the fate of these soldiers and the merchant captain," Levi says. "If we drop them off."

Hange sighs. "I know."

 _Maybe they'll change their minds. Like I did._ Levi hopes so. Although he knows from past experiences that telling soldiers how much their commanders and their king are betraying them will just illicit cries of _"liar!"_ and _"you're a pirate; why should I trust you?"_ to which Levi replies, " _Because your pathetic life depends on it, brat,"_ and it all makes little difference.

* * *

Armin hears the floorboards creaking, a heavier sound than the rolls and groans of the ship in this blasted storm. His stomach dances, but it's better than it has been. _Maybe I won't throw up this time._

A shadow passes over him as someone slips out. Armin frowns, but his stomach lurches.

 _I can do this,_ Armin tells himself, breathing deeply in through his nose and slowly out through his mouth. _I can do this._

His stomach heaves. Cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. He jumps to his feet and scrambles for the ladder. He skids across the deck, barely making it to the edge in time to gag.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and someone grabs his hair. _Mikasa_. Armin heaves again. Water stings his eyes.

"It shouldn't last much longer," comes a stiff voice.

 _Not Mikasa._ Armin jumps, whirling around. _Annie_. "What are you—"

"I couldn't sleep." Annie smirks. "You know there's a cat on board? To eat the rats?"

"No," Armin says. The mist soaks his face. It's cooling and comforting.

"I was playing with it a bit."

Armin can't imagine Annie playing. "I'm worried."

"About being so sick? It hasn't even been a week yet."

"No, about—" Armin hesitates. "Well, that's part of it. But I'm—not physically strong. What if I can't do all the duties they ask of—"

"You'll use your mind and prove yourself useful that way," Annie answers. Her bangs droop against her face.

He gulps. "You—"

"Yeah?" She cocks her head. Even in the dark, he can make out the buckles and belts of her royal blue uniform.

"You're not at all concerned about working with pirates?"

Annie crosses her arms. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're a soldier. You took an oath. Hitch and Marlowe seem a lot more apprehensive."

Annie chortles, a surprisingly girlish sound. The ropes above them creak, and Armin realizes there must be pirates in the crow's nest, possibly watching them. He flushes.

"Are you judging me, Armin?" she asks.

"What?" His jaw drops. "N-no! Not at all. I was just—concerned."

"How do _you_ feel?" Annie questions, heading over to a strapped down barrel. She hoists herself onto it. "About working with pirates? Guilty?"

Armin looks at her outstretched arm and takes it. She pulls him onto the barrel and shifts to the one next to it.

"No," Armin admits. "I think—that we have to do what we have to do. If we have to work with the worst of the worst to accomplish a greater goal—if we have to leave our convictions and our humanity behind to do it—then it's worth it. And ending this war would be worth it."

Annie stares at him, her eyes gleaming. It may be dark, but he sees her lips part in surprise.

"Well," she says, voice thin. "That's not my motivation."

"Do you want me to ask you what your motivation is?"

She leans back on her hands, peering up at the dark, charcoal sky. "I prefer this kind of life to a regimented one. Even though a regimented one is all I know."

"What do you see in it?" Armin asks.

"The freedom to more or less make my own choices." Annie snorts. "Sometimes I wonder what that would be like."

"Then here's your chance, I guess," Armin offers. His heart's beating very fast, and he doesn't quite know why.

She doesn't return his smile.

"So will you stay on? When this is all over?" Armin asks. The breeze rifles through his hair.

"No." Annie sighs. "I'll probably go back to shore. Because I want to live. And this life isn't conducive to staying alive."

"I don't fault you for that," Armin says.

"Don't you want to stay alive?"

Armin blinks. "Of course I do. But I think life isn't always more important than—greater things."

She frowns, as if his answer perturbs her. It shouldn't soften his heart the way it does.

"You're actually pretty nice, aren't you, Annie?"

"Huh?" Her jaw drops.

"You're trying to persuade me to stay alive, and value my own life," Armin says. "The truth is I do. Too much. I saw Eren leaving with his father that night—his shack was across from mine. I was too scared to go after him." Shame coils in his stomach.

"What could you have done?"

"Comforted my friend."

"So what? What does that even do?"

He blinks, tightening his grip on the rail.

"You look surprised. Want to revise your assumption that I'm a good person?"

"I don't like that term. I think it means people who are good _for_ you, and no one can be good to everybody at the same time." He draws in his breath, smelling salt and rain.

"People like you and Eren and even Marlowe," Annie says. "You're idiots. But I admire you."

Now it's his turn to be shocked. "Why?"

"Because you have convictions, and you stick to them. My only driving goal is to survive."

"But I don't think—"

"I know what you think." Annie slips off the barrels. She reaches out to pull him down, which amuses Armin because she's shorter than he is. "You should sleep. If you want to survive. I don't think dying from exhaustion on your first day sailing a pirate ship is going to serve any ideal."

"No," Armin agrees, fear creeping in again. _I don't want to die useless._

 _You can use your mind.._

 _And Eren and Mikasa are here for you,_ he reminds himself. _They believe in me._ _Even when I can't believe in myself._


	7. The Kiss

"You can do it, Christa," Ymir encourages.

Her palms burn even under the bandages Ymir applied. Her legs shake, and she wants to beg the wind to stop, stop blowing, give her a break. She makes the mistake of looking down at the deck well over a hundred feet below. Eren and Mikasa look up at her, swaying as she attempt to climb the rigging, and she can't even make out their faces. _It's so far,_ she thinks, her toes and fingers tingling.

"Christa!" Ymir shouts. "Look at me. Not at them."

Christa tilts her head up, an inch at a time. Ymir peers down at her, brown hair swirling around her face and freckles popping. At least the small squall last night gave way into a beautiful day.

"You're not going to fall," Ymir says. "I'd catch you."

It's so ridiculous Christa actually laughs. "You'd have to dive down for that."

"Eh, so I would." A grin splits Ymir's lips.

 _Just a little further_. Christa moves her feet, her hands. Her shoulders scream at her. "I can't—"

"Climb or fall, Christa." Ymir's tone hardens.

She gasps.

"Of course, there's a part of you that wants to fall, isn't there?"

Christa narrows her eyes. The sun stabs at her scalp with its hot rays. Her heart thumps. _How much do you know?_

"I'd prefer you to climb, though," Ymir adds.

Christa bites her cheeks. Bitter blood fills her mouth. Gulping, she drags herself up further. _Almost there—almost there—_

"Got you," Ymir says as her hand clamps over Christa's wrist. She hauls Christa into the lookout, Christa crashing into her. "Good job."

Christa pulls her face away from Ymir's shoulder. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me for bitching at you."

She blinks.

"You don't regret joining these pirates, do you?"

"No," Christa answers, settling down. She peers out at the horizon. Azure ripples all around them. A chill skips down her spine. _We're so small._

"Of course not," Ymir says bitterly. "You want to die. Participating in a war, if covertly, is a noble way to go even, isn't it? People will praise you and that's what you really want, after all."

Christa's chest tightens. "I—"

"You shouldn't want to die," Ymir snaps. "You should want to _live_ , Christa, even if it's just to spite the bastards who made you feel this way. Although that's not even your real name."

Christa's chest tightens. Her palms slicken with sweat, and she scrapes them against the rough wood. The wind blasts her face. "What do you know?"

Ymir folds her arms around her knees. "I don't know your name. I know you're the illegitimate daughter of the king. I know you're the rightful heir to the throne now, but they've told you that you don't deserve it and—well, I'm guessing they've drummed it into you so deep that you actually believe them. And so you're determined to prove them wrong by dying a noble death. I think you should prove them wrong by living your life the way you want to, under your real name, and damn the consequences and damn what they think."

Christa's jaw falls open. Her mother's face—the bloody knife—her stomach churns. "How?"

"I overheard people talking after your siblings were slaughtered. Did they even know about you?"

"Frieda did. She came to see me. Every week." Christa wipes at her eyes. _My sister… murdered._

 _Possibly by that Eren's father._ She peers down to watch him trying to fence with Mikasa and Annie, the latter of whom gives him pointers.

"Fuck them," Ymir says. "Not Frieda. But fuck the king, and fuck everyone else who made you think you were worthless. It's hard to realize they were full of shit. I know. We're alike, you and me, you know that?" Her voice trembles.

Christa turns to face her. "How?"

"I was made to live in a certain me because my existence, however necessary, made certain people unhappy," Ymir says. "But now I am living as Ymir. I don't care who knows who I am. They're bastards, you know, in a way you're not. You don't deserve to still cow to what they want from you." She snorts. "I have secrets too, you know."

"Why do you care?" Christa blurts out. "Why do you—why does it matter to you what I—"

"Because, I told you. We're alike." She laughs. "I am a really shitty, selfish person."

"You're my friend," Christa says, her voice quivering. "You saved me from the streets."

Ymir wipes at her eyes. "I just wanted you close to me. Because you reminded me of me."

"You saved me from the streets _regardless_ of your motivations," Christa repeats. "And lest you forget, I asked you to take me on."

"I suspected you would ask."

Christa grits her teeth. _Stop being so stubborn, please!_ "You're my friend. I'm on your side."

Ymir turns to gape at her. Tears sting Christa's eyes. _You cared. You_ cared _, even if you were selfish, and that's something no one except Frieda ever did for me before._

Ymir leans across and catches Christa by the back of the neck. Christa startles. _What are you doing?_

Her face hovers across from Christa's, her breath warm and lips so close, her eyes focusing on Christa's. The freckles across her face blur as Ymir leans in, her lips taking Christa's.

Christa's never been kissed before in her life. She doesn't know what to do, but this feeling, soft lips against her own—she likes it.

"Now you know," Ymir says as she pulls back, abruptly. "I find you attractive. That's why—"

 _Stop_ your _bullshit, now!_ Christa wants to shout. "And why is that?" she demands instead.

"Half the guys on this ship are in love with you after only a few days, because you're small and pretty and nice and—smart, and determined, and there's a part of you that won't give up, because there's a part of you that _knows_ that they were all wrong, that you're capable and—"

Christa flings herself forward, catching Ymir by the shoulders and kissing her again. She hopes this is how you kiss. She's not sure. But Ymir's fingers entangle with her hair, and Christa's hand grips Ymir's back and she feels, for the first time she can remember, _wanted_.

* * *

"You and the rest of the new crewmembers are invited to dinner tonight with the captain," Oruo tells Annie as she sheaths her sword. She can feel Marlowe and Hitch's gawps.

"I presume this isn't a request that can be refused?" Hitch asks, voice shaking.

"No," Oruo answers. "It isn't."

Eren pries himself off the deck, wheezing. "Thanks, Annie."

She nods. Mikasa glares at her, clearly unhappy with Annie knocking Eren to the deck again and again and again, and with giving him pointers when he faced off with Mikasa. Annie ignores her. The kid doesn't give up. And she admires that, like she admires Marlowe and Armin.

 _You have principles._

She's a ship without a mast, floundering in the waves, certain to founder in a storm.

Annie pushes past Armin— _don't look at him, don't look at him_ —and climbs down the hatch. Armin thinks she's a good person.

 _I'm the worst person for you, Armin._

Her boots hit the floorboards, and she straightens to find Reiner waiting for her, his arms crossed. Bertolt leans against the wall behind him.

"Do you need something?" Annie snaps.

"To talk," Reiner says. A laugh rings out, and a yelp.

"You can't eat that!"

"I need to taste it to make sure it's good enough!"

"Turns out the stowaway can cook," Bertolt says with a soft smile. Annie nods. Sasha's friendly enough. She knows nothing about ships, but then again, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, plus that Christa girl, know nothing about them either.

"Let's go to the hold," Reiner says.

Annie scurries after them, trying to shake off the cobwebs of guilt. The tiger cat mews somewhere in the dark recesses of the hold, where damp air clings to Annie's skin and she stumbles over a sack of grain. Bertolt carries a lantern, and as light dawns, Annie spies gold and diamonds spill from a chest. _Was that from Jean's ship, or some other one?_

 _It doesn't matter,_ she reminds herself, leaning against a crate. The cat meows again, and Annie clicks her tongue. "What's going on?"

"Good to see you too," Reiner retorts, crossing his arms. Bertolt nods.

"Took you long enough," Annie says. "The entire time I was worried that Zeke would show up too early and get spotted, or I'd get blown to smithereens."

Reiner huffs. "It all worked out."

"Yeah. Thankfully."

The hull moans. Gold coins skitter across the deck. Bertolt hooks the lantern on a hook, his face pale.

"You're getting awfully friendly with some of them," Reiner says.

"I see I'm getting Pissy Reiner today," Annie retorts.

"What are you talking about?" he demands.

"You were pretty helpful earlier. To Marco, when he was repairing that sail. And when we were firing cannons at Zeke's ship."

"I aimed away!"

"At _first_ ," Annie says.

Reiner's eyes dart about. He squeezes his hands together. "Well, we have to keep our cover. If Eren Jaeger really does have a map to that—Zeke will—"

"Do you think he knows?" Bertolt breaks in. "About his father?"

"No," Annie answers. "He's oblivious."

"His mother died," Reiner whispers. "When we attacked Fort Shiganshina."

"Now who's feeling badly?" Annie taunts.

"I'm impressed they managed to escape the refugee compound," Bertolt says. "You were one of the few who bothered to leave, Annie, and you weren't even really ever one of them."

 _Was I?_ Annie wonders. _What am I, and who have I been? Is there even a_ real _me?_ "Clearly, however Grisha Jaeger brought his kid up, he taught him enough to question the king's edicts. And to value his friends' lives if not his own, because he does seem to be overly eager to fight to Marlay."

"Can we blame him?" Reiner asks with a bitter laugh. "If it were my mother—my father—"

"Your parents didn't want you," Annie says bluntly. "Not as much as they wanted a free life for themselves. Same with you, Bertolt."

"And your father does want you?" Reiner snaps.

"No," Annie says. "He apologized, but he still did it."

" _Forgive me. Promise you'll come back,"_ _he pleaded._

Why now? _she wanted to scream._ Why do you care now, when it's too late?

"We have to do it," Reiner says. "Or else they'll—they'll all die, because of us."

"We will do it," Bertolt says, stepping forward. "We're warriors."

"It'd be helpful if you were more open with us, though," Reiner adds, focusing on her.

The cat rubs against her legs, purring. Annie leans down and picks it up, scratching behind the ears. _You have a name, kitty_? "How?"

"Well, why are you training Eren?"

"Why are you being kind to him?" Annie retorts.

"We feel sorry for him," Bertolt whispers.

"I don't remember why," Reiner says with a frown.

Bertolt sucks in his breath.

"You don't _remember?"_ Annie demands as the cat rests its chin on her shoulder.

"He's fine," Bertolt says quickly.

"Horseshit."

Bertolt flushes.

"Nice language," Reiner snips.

"As if yours is any better."

"I'm around pirates. I have to act the part."

Annie straightens and takes a step closer. " _Are_ you acting?"

Bertolt's brows fly up his face. Reiner looks gray even as shadows pass over his face with the rocking of the ship.

"I have to do this. This is what we were born for," Reiner says in a hard voice. "We're warriors."

 _We're warriors… blah, blah, blah._ Words are cheap. Annie knows this. "And if things were different?" she questions, cocking her head.

"They aren't different!" Reiner shouts. "There's no point in even considering it! And I don't—don't ever bring that up again, or I'll tell Zeke, so help me. I will."

"Reiner!" Bertolt grasps his shoulder, looking stricken.

"Are you threatening me?" Annie lets the cat go. It darts for the ladder, and almost instantly, cold floods the void where she held it against her chest. Gooseflesh rises.

"Don't make me have to," Reiner snaps.

"If you want to go at it, right here, right now, we'll establish who's in charge really fast," Annie says, bracing herself. Her fists clench. _I can take you_.

"Stop!" Bertolt shouts. "Please! Annie—"

"I won't have you questioning my loyalty again," Annie says, her voice hard. "Keep him in his correct mind, Bertolt." She stalks out.

"I'm not insane!" Reiner insists behind her.

"I know," Bertolt says, but his tone gives it away.

 _We're sinking,_ Annie thinks as she spots the kitty. She reaches for it, but the gray thing scampers away from her. Tears clog her throat. _Damn cat._

 _We've got a leader who's losing his mind, I'm helping people I'm going to have to kill, and all Zeke would say is that it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, they don't matter._

She thinks of Hitch giggling and Marlowe's determination to fight corruption, of Eren's determination to end the war—same as theirs, only more innocent—and Armin's earnest faith in her.

 _We're going to sink._

* * *

 _Christa kissed me._

 _I should push her away,_ Ymir thinks as she combs her hair back. But she already knows she won't. Christa's the only person who's ever seen her as what she is and still treat her with kindness. _More_ than kindness.

"Ready?" she asks Christa, whose blond hair lies loose around her face. _She really does look like an angel._

Christa nods, and they sweep out of their sleeping quarters. Reiner grins at Christa, and Ymir slips her arm around her, tossing Reiner a smirk. _Keep trying._

All of the new crewmembers show up, even the soldiers, who look as if they're being asked to dine with their worst nightmare. Maybe Erwin _is_ their worst nightmare, a compelling image of what they could become. Levi and Hange are there too, Hange with some blood smeared on her shirt. Levi cringes as he notices it.

"Welcome," Erwin greets them. Platters of meat, biscuits that actually look soft, and greens lay out on the table. The scent of garlic hits Ymir's nose. Wine swirls in the goblets.

"Meat!" gasps Sasha, practically lunging for it.

"Hey, leave some for everybody else," Connie complains.

"Want some potatoes?" Ymir offers Christa, who nods eagerly. _What kind of food did they feed you, back at your estate?_

There's so much she wants to know about Christa.

"Thank you," the short blond boy, Armin, squeaks.

Erwin smiles. "My pleasure."

"How did you really become a pirate?" Jean can't help but ask.

Levi snorts.

"It's a long story," Erwin says simply. "And it's one I don't feel you're ready for."

Jean scowls. Ymir bites into a biscuit. It tastes almost buttery.

"How long does it take to get to this island?" Reiner questions, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We're making landfall tomorrow, brat," Levi says. "At a port to make a few deals and stock up on supplies. After that—" He glances to Erwin.

"A couple weeks," Hange puts in.

"So it is a real map?" Reiner continues, his brow furrowed.

 _Of course, you dolt,_ Ymir thinks, but she can't let on that she knows.

"What do you think might be on the island?" Eren asks. "What could possibly help end the war?"

Mikasa casts him a look full of so many emotions—sorrow, hope, pity. Ymir recognizes all of them from how she feels right now, with Christa taking her hand under the table and squeezing.

 _You really trust me, don't you?_

Erwin sighs. "I don't know."

"Have you ever robbed a Marlay ship?" Marco questions. Ymir smirks. She's noticed how he looks at Jean.

"I've encountered Marlayans, if that's your question," Erwin answers.

"What are they like?" Marlowe asks.

"They're people," Hange says with a snort.

"We all used to be one kingdom," Erwin says. "Under the a royal dynasty known as the Fritzes. But part of the kingdom was treated poorly in comparison—"

"Eldia?" questions Eren.

"No," Hange answers. Eren pales. "There's been a war ever since the Fritzes died out. The crown would rather have the Marlay be seen as monsters," she adds. "It's easier to kill a monster."

Ymir takes a sip of wine. It burns, pleasantly blanketing her mind. She shifts in her seat.

"They are monsters," Eren shoots back. "They killed my—"

"We all have people we've lost to this war," Hange says.

"But you'd think—if we were once one nation—then the Marlay might live—"

"No," says Erwin. "The Marlayans, as well as the former East Sea nation, were all exterminated by the crown."

Christa stiffens. Ymir rubs her thumb over her knuckles. Her heart pounds. Will Christa reject this news? Or accept it?

 _It's true._

"In Marlay, Eldians are rumored to still live," Erwin continues. "In camps, with their freedom restricted."

"We should rescue them," Eren declares.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's possible," Jean snaps.

"How do we even know to trust this information?" Marco demands.

"I've heard such rumors myself," Reiner says quietly. Annie and Bertolt both turn to stare at him.

"I had a book once," Armin says. "That suggested as much. It was a forbidden book; I lost it when Fort Shiganshina fell. And maybe they wouldn't even be receptive to rescue. Maybe they feel abandoned."

Ymir almost chokes on a piece of meat. Bertolt drains his wine.

When the meal ends, she asks Christa if she's okay.

Christa nods. "Do you believe it?"

Ymir swallows, and nods.

Christa shakes her head, clenching her fists. "I'm so sorry."

"You aren't responsible for your family's actions," Ymir assures her.

"I think I'm going to head to sleep." Christa rubs her head.

"Want help?"

"I've got it." Christa wobbles slightly. _Have you ever had wine in your life before?_

"I can help," Reiner offers, reaching for Christa's arm.

 _Oh, no you don't._ Ymir practically elbows him out of the way.

"Thanks, Ymir," Christa murmurs as Ymir helps her to her hammock. Her eyes flutter shut almost immediately.

 _I need some fresh air,_ Ymir decides, heading for the ladder. Reiner waits for her there, arms crossed. "What?"

"You didn't seem all that surprised by what the captain said over dinner."

Ymir turns to face him, the scent of garlic still heavy in the air. Her stomach feels full and content for the first time in weeks. "Despite your idiotic ploy questioning, you didn't seem exactly shocked either."

"Really." Reiner arches an eyebrow.

"Are you going to let me pass or are you trying to cop a feel?" Ymir snaps.

Reiner's jaw drops, and he looks truly offended. "I didn't think I looked like the kind of man who's interested in women. Just like you don't look like the type of girl who's interested in men."

 _You're not interested in Christa that way after all, are you? What does she represent to you?_

 _Hope. The things you wish you were._ Ymir knows this well. "Does Bertolt know?"

"He has enough going on," Reiner says. "He doesn't need to know his best friend's got a crush on him."

"Up to you," Ymir says with a shrug. "You make your own decisions, and you're responsible for them, no matter the outcome."

Reiner frowns as she pushes past. "What are you saying?"

Ymir pauses halfway up the ladder. "It's something that's taken me awhile to learn. You own what you decide to do. Whatever it is."

Reiner pales.


	8. The Abduction

"Be back by dawn, or this ship leaves without you," Erwin commands. Eren nods.

The port they dock at is more than a little seedy. The streets are caked in grime. A half-naked man dumps a bottle of rum over the edge of a balcony, splashing Armin, who yelps. Three women throw a man to the ground in front of a building made of singed bricks and pounce on him, beating him with their fists.

Eren's nose wrinkles at the stench of waste and alcohol intermingling. A cow meanders down the street, moaning as if it, too, is somehow drunk. "What are we going to do here?" With each step, he wobbles as if he's still on the ship.

"Do we want to go back to the ship?" Armin ventures, wringing rum out of his hair.

Mikasa grips her sword so tightly that her knuckles are white. Eren hesitates.

"Want a drink?" Reiner invites them. He's standing on a street corner with Jean, Marco, and Bertolt, the other three looking just as out of place as Eren feels.

"Can we get a drink that won't kill us?" Mikasa asks darkly.

Reiner chortles. "If you know where to look."

"Have you been here before?" asks Eren.

Reiner shrugs. "I've been in towns like these before. After awhile, they're all the same."

"Where's Annie?" Armin questions as a scream rings out.

"Hange found normal clothes for her, Hitch, and Marlowe to change into," Reiner answers. "No idea where she's gone, but she won't be targeted."

 _Good_. Although judging from the bruises Eren bears, he's pretty sure that Annie could take care of herself even wearing her soldier's uniform.

"Must be hard for them to be here and unable to do anything," Marco remarks as Reiner ducks down a shadowy alley. Eren sucks in his breath as he spots blood splattered against the brick wall. He almost trips over a man lying crumpled on the ground.

 _Is he—_

The man grumbles and rolls over.

"Black-out drunk," Mikasa says flatly.

Eren steps around him, heart still hammering in his throat. They come out another side-street, but with more people milling about, including a couple that looks as if they weren't able to get a room at the inn. Eren cringes.

Reiner raps on a wooden door, which flies open almost immediately. "Come in!" invites the tavern keeper, an older woman with a hooked nose but kindly eyes.

"Ale for each of us," Reiner orders.

"How did you know this place was here?" Jean demands as Reiner drops around a stained table littered with the remains of half-eaten meat and empty, chipped mugs.

"I asked an older man when we got to shore for a decent tavern. If someone has clean clothes, they'll give you a straight answer. That's something we learned early. Been sailing since the Marlay destroyed my village," Reiner replies. "Me and Bertl."

Bertolt lowers his face, as if he doesn't want to think about that.

"Captain Erwin's definitely the best captain we've ever had," Reiner adds, admiration in his tone.

"How did you end up working for him?" Jean asks as the waitress sets down mugs of ale for each of them. She brushes her fingers against Jean's shoulder. He wrinkles his nose, repulsed.

 _The ale doesn't taste too bad,_ Eren thinks as he sips.

"We heard rumors that in addition to being the best captain on the seas, he wasn't exactly a pirate in the truest sense of the word," Reiner says, gulping his ale.

"What do you mean?" Mikasa asks. Armin frowns. His hair's drying in stiff clumps.

"He wants to end the war," Bertolt manages to say.

Reiner nods. Marco's eyes widen.

"What do you mean?" Eren demands.

"What he said to us at dinner the other night," Reiner says, leaning forward. "Is just the beginning of the truth. Not even the people on his crew except maybe his first and second mate, and that doctor, know what he knows. Rumor has it he didn't think the navy was doing a very good job battling the Marlay, so he decided to break off and work on his own."

'That's stupid," Jean says. "What can one ship do?"

"Depending on what we find on that island on your map," Reiner says to Eren. "Maybe a whole lot. Anyways, they issued a warrant for desertion or something. I think." He frowns. "And issued charges of piracy, so Erwin then decided to become a pirate."

Jean chugs the rest of his drink, a green look on his face.

"Are you all right?" Eren can't help but ask. Even if Jean's an ass, he doesn't want him getting sick all over them. Armin's nausea's finally abated and Eren never wants to see, hear, or smell vomit again.

"Fine," he says shortly, rising to his feet. "I think I'll head back."

"Are you sure?" Reiner asks. "I ordered sausages for us all."

"You did?" Eren asks in amazement. "That's—"

"Really kind of you," Armin says.

Reiner squirms. Bertolt gives a small smile.

Jean hesitates.

"Hey, pretty," says an older man with a drooping beard as he staggers over to them. "You going?"

"No," Jean says, dropping back down onto his stool. "I'm staying."

The man turns his beady gaze to Eren. The ale suddenly churns in his stomach. Mikasa yanks down her scarf. "You're real pretty too, you know that?" He leans across the table, reaching for Eren's shoulder as if to feel him up.

"Get away from him," Mikasa shouts, but even as she draws her sword, Eren kicks the man in the knee. _Thanks for that move, Annie_.

The man tumbles back onto his rear, and something flies out of his hand. _Paper?_

 _No_ , Eren realizes at the same moment Armin gasps. _The map!_

 _He grabbed it from my pocket1_

He lunges off his stool, crashing into the wooden floorboards. Splinters jab up his palm, his elbow explodes in pain, but he manages to snatch the scroll.

" _Eren!"_ Mikasa screams.

Horror weaves its way through his stomach like cold spider legs grabbing its prey. He cranes his neck to see a crowd gathering around him.

And they all have muskets.

And six of them are aimed at his friends.

 _We walked into a trap!_

Hands reach down, hauling Eren to his feet. The bearded pirate cackles. "Take him." A gag is jammed into his mouth. Eren chokes, thrashing, trying to remember Annie's fight tips, but—

"No!" bellows Mikasa, and then he sees it. Her sword flashing in the candlelight. Reiner whips a pistol out of his pocket and fires, but he can't shoot at the ones holding Eren for risk of hurting Eren.

 _Kick!_ Eren throws himself backwards, using his feet, his throbbing elbow, his knees.

"Make him stop!" squeals the bearded pirate.

"Let him go!" shouts Marco.

A bottle glints above him.

And then it comes down.

* * *

"They're getting away!" Jean yells, punching a woman who aims a cleaver at his head in the gut. She doubles over, and he kicks the weapon away from her.

Mikasa's heart pounds as she disarms another pirate. She bursts through the crowd, including the screaming tavern owner. The night air presses against her, sticky and heavy. _There!_

"You can't go after them!" Jean shouts at her.

"I am!" she screams back. She can't let them take Eren. She swore she'd protect him. Mikasa charges down the street, her sword raised.

" _Ackerman!"_

Mikasa doesn't even turn around. The pirates round a corner and she follows, and then—

The streets bustle with people in five different directions. Fear grapples for Mikasa's throat as she turns around and around, trying to spot a group of pirates, trying to spot _Eren_.

"What the hell is going on?" bellows a familiar voice. Mikasa whirls to see Bertolt, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Armin all catching up to her, and Levi bursting out of the crowd with his face contorted in fury.

"They took Eren!" Jean shouts. "And we—where—" He looks to Mikasa, and she shakes her head.

 _I don't know where._ Helplessness paralyzes her like it hasn't since that axe collided with her mother's skull, that knife protruded from her father's heart. All done by Eldians. _Who is the real enemy_?

This time Eren isn't coming to save her. She has to save him.

"And the map?" Levi demands.

Mikasa's brows knot. _Who gives a damn about the map?_

"With him," Reiner confirms. "I can—"

"No, you and Hoover head three blocks that direction and find the _Angel's Stowaway_. Erwin should be inside; tell him what's happened and follow his orders. Kirchstein, Bott, Arlert, you three head back to the ship, and if you see anyone along the way tell them to head back as well." Levi unsheathes his cutlass. "Ackerman and I are going after them."

Mikasa grits her teeth. _Stop wasting time!_ "How do we know which—"

"I know where the most likely places they'd take him," Levi answers, pushing his way through the crowd. Mikasa glances over her shoulder at Armin, who nods at her.

 _He trusts me to find Eren._ And she won't let him down.

Nightmares tear at her memories. Real nightmares, the ones she's lived.

" _You have to fight, if you want to live!"_

 _I'm fighting, Eren,_ Mikasa thinks desperately. _For you._

"Who is he to you?" Levi shouts over his shoulder as they push their way through the streets. Shoulders, elbows knock into Mikasa, and she doesn't care. "Your boyfriend?"

"My family," she answers, even as heat spills through her cheeks. Her scarf rubs against her chin as she runs. "He saved my life." _He taught me how to live_.

"There!" Levi spots the bedraggled crew ducking into an alleyway. Mikasa charges after them, but he catches her arm and drags her down the side street before it. "We'll surprise them."

Mikasa's heart thumps. She hopes Levi's right.

"You get Eren," Levi commands, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes. "I'll take care of them."

Wheeling around the bend, Mikasa almost smacks straight into the bearded pirate. Without thinking, she drives her sword into his stomach.

He groans, sinking to his knees. The others shout, scrambling back— _there he is; he's limp_ —Mikasa's sword clangs against another—she ducks, he lunges, and she kicks his legs out from under him. The sword clatters against the cobblestones. Mikasa scrambles towards Eren.

"One more step and I slit his throat!" shouts a scrawny woman, holding a jagged blade to Eren's neck. His eyes flutter.

 _Eren!_ She's so close, and she can't move a single muscle. "You touch him, and I'll—"

A rock slams into the woman's shoulder. She gasps, the knife slipping. Mikasa leaps at her, using the sword to push her into the brick wall, slamming her head. The woman gives a gasp, and her eyes roll back into her head. _Unconscious_.

Eren lies crumpled on the ground. Mikasa flies over to him, pulling him over her shoulder. She yanks the gag out of his mouth. He moans. "It's okay. Levi and I have got you," she whispers. She feels for the map. _Still in his pocket._

"Mikasa?" he croaks.

"You're safe," Mikasa reassures him. Her throat closes up. _Don't cry. Don't cry._

"Let's go, brats," Levi snaps, five pirates lying unconscious and wounded at his feet. He shakes the blood off his cutlass. "Can he walk?'

"Not well, but I can help him until he can," Mikasa says.

"Thank you," Eren ekes out, his head lolling against Mikasa's shoulder.

"You saved me once," Mikasa reminds him.

"I helped you—save yourself," he grumbles, legs wobbling.

She snorts. "Well, you're trying to walk."

He almost laughs. Blood trickles from his temple, wetting her coat.

"You wrapped this scarf around me," she says.

Eren's fingers tug at it. "I'll wrap it as many times as I need to."

* * *

Jean blows his breath out in relief when he sees Mikasa appear over the rail. She drops to the deck and then leans over to help Eren up. Levi follows.

"Is that everyone?" Captain Erwin demands.

"It is," confirms Mike, the gigantic second mate.

"Raise the anchor," Erwin orders.

"Did you get all the supplies?" Levi pants.

"We got what we could. Some gunpowder, and food. Not enough medical supplies, though," Hange says, rubbing her spectacles.

"Well, we'll have to avoid battles," Mike says.

Levi snickers.

"Are you all right?" Marco asks Eren anxiously. He sways on his feet. As annoying as Jean finds him, he doesn't want Eren abducted and surely executed.

Hange yelps. "Your head!" She springs at him. "Let me bandage that up!"

Armin rushes to them, his face white. Mikasa gives her friend a weak smile.

"How did they know to look for him?" Jean blurts out as Hange leads Eren away, Mikasa following. But Mikasa freezes, her hand on her sword again.

"It's possible the crown knows," Erwin says.

" _How?"_ Jean explodes. Reiner shakes his head.

Annie pops out of the hatch, followed by Hitch and Marlowe, and Christa and Ymir.

"The crown isn't interested in ending the war," Levi retorts. "Haven't you already figured that out? It wouldn't be hard to track down people who would have known Eren's father, and Eren himself. I'm sure once they found a merchant ship blown to smithereens they blamed us and know our common landing places."

"Why wouldn't they be interested in ending the war?" Christa bursts out. Jean raises his eyebrows.

"No one knows," Erwin answers.

"We heard some of those rumors," Reiner says, glancing to Bertolt.

Erwin jerks his head. "When I first realized things weren't adding up, and that the Marlay were sailing closer than we'd been told, another naval vessel chased us down. They almost sunk us. It's how I lost my arm." He lifts his shoulder. "They spread rumors we were pirating, and—"

"So it's all been a lie?" Jean demands.

"Not all of it. Not anymore. We do take merchant ships when necessary. But we've only sunk one," Levi says, crossing his arms. "That's all been the work of the Marlay."

"They ordered us back to shore, and we decided not to go," Mike says, about the most words Jean's ever heard him say.

"Why would Eldia's king be blaming you for the work of the Marlay?" Jean cries out. "It makes no sense!"

"It does if the king believes exposure of his real motives is a greater threat than the enemy," Armin says quietly.

"Well, I'm glad it makes sense to one of us," Jean snaps.

"I don't want to harm people," Erwin says. "I sell the gold and jewels we capture to finance our mission, hunting for clues. But until Eren, we were coming up dry everywhere we turned. The grain and other things we'll give away to people who need it."

Jean's stomach flip-flops. He marches for the hatch. _I've heard enough._

"Jean?" calls Sasha. "You okay?"

He ignores her, heading for his hammock. No, screw it—he heads back to the ladder, climbing down towards the hold, where all the good from his ship sit. The goods he would have sold at raised prices.

"Jean!"

He jumps. "You can't leave me alone?" he snarls.

A crash, and a groan.

Jean swears. He scrambles over, feeling in the darkness. His foot collides with something soft.

"It's me," Marco says sheepishly.

"Oh." Jean tugs him to his feet. "You didn't bring a lantern?"

"Neither did you," Marco points out. "You seemed upset."

Jean turns away from him and kicks what feels like a bag of grain. "I _am_ upset."

"Why?"

"Because—" He clenches his fists. "I'm more of a selfish miser than a bunch of pirates?"

"Jean," Marco says quietly. "They know things you had no way of knowing."

"Still." He kicks again, rage coursing through him. "Eren's going to think he was right about me."

"Jean, if you were a heartless—you wouldn't have felt so upset about seeing your crew perish." Marco's voice catches.

 _Mina. Thomas. Franz and Hannah, newly married_. Jean can barely pry his jaw apart. "I just—don't want those people disappointed in me."

"What do you mean?"

Jean turns towards the sound of Marco's voice. He reaches out, feeling until he grasps Marco's shoulder. "I'm joining Erwin's crew."

"Huh?"

"Permanently. Until the war is ended, at least." Jean clears his throat. "You should leave when—"

"No," Marco says. "I'd already made my decision."

"To?"

"Join, as well."

Jena can't help but laugh. "Somehow I'm not surprised."

"What do you mean?"

Rats skitter around them. "You want to do the right thing, Marco. And unlike me, you're pretty good at figuring out what that is."

"I can't persuade other people to act rightly, though," Marco says quietly. "That's something you're gifted at, Jean: leadership. And I'm not as good as you think at figuring out what the right thing to do is. If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said I'd be happy to die for the king. I would have been happy to die for a lie."

Jean swallows. _How many men died like Marco wanted to?_

"And I'm actually quite cowardly in some ways."

He snorts, his hand still on Marco's shoulder. He's got more muscle than Jean thought. Warmth fills his abdomen. _What am I doing?_ "How?"

"I'm proud of you for joining, but I'm also worried. I don't want you to die."

"Marco, for goodness sake, your life is just as important as mine," Jean snaps. The warm feeling stays with him. His pulse increases. He tries to remember Mikasa, but he can't. "I can take care of myself."

"That, I'm well aware of."

"You couldn't have been pleased with what I planned to do on the archipelago with my cargo," Jean realizes. He lets go of Marco's shoulder, stomach sinking.

"No," Marco admits, voice small. "But I hoped you would—"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm—" Marco lets out a rough laugh. "I'm not good at conflict, Jean. I—"

"You know, I actually _want_ to hear your opinions," Jean shoots back. "You're not Eren Jaeger. You're someone I like as well as trust. If you have a problem, I want to hear about it."

He hears Marco's intake of breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

" _Okay."_ He can hear the smile in Marco's voice. The ship pitches, and Marco stumbles into him. "Sorry."

"For what?" Jean retorts, both of them holding onto each other. Their breaths echo.

Marco lets go first. "I should—"

"Wait!" Jean calls, trying to grab onto a single kernel of courage. "You—you have feelings for me, don't you?"

Marco doesn't make a single sound, and Jean knows he's right.

"You're my friend," Jean says. _I trust you with my life. I respect you_. His heart pounds as he reaches out, grasping Marco's shoulders.

"What are you doing, Jean?" Marco ekes out.

Jean's hands trail Marco's shoulders, up the back of his neck, where on hand lingers as the other traces Marco's jaw. _I really want to do this_. He's never felt anything for a man before, but with Marco, he feels all sort of emotions—hope, determination, inspired to be a better version of himself—it's incomparable.

His fingers reach the tip of Marco's lips, and Jean leans forward, removing his finger and pressing his own lips over Marco's, which open to him. Marco's hand grips his shoulder. Blood thrums in Jean's ears as Marco presses into his mouth, and Jean's hands hold his face close, so close.

The ship lurches again, and they tumble to the deck. Jean snorts as a bag of grain breaks their fall.

"Should we go back up?" Marco asks, panting.

"No," Jean says, pulling him close again. "Let's stay here a little while longer."

* * *

"I can't believe what they said," Marlowe breathes as he climbs into his hammock. Annie's already asleep in hers, or pretending to be. Hitch scowls.

"It can't be true." She flicks her hair.

"What if it is, Hitch?" he presses, peering up to her.

 _If it is?_

Hitch doesn't want to believe it.

Because if so, she's done a terrible thing.

" _How much will it cost me for you to mail this letter to the nearest naval outpost?" Hitch asked one of the more-scrupulous looking gentlemen in the town._

 _His eyes ran up and down her body. "How about fifteen minutes?"_

" _How about fifteen gold coins?" Hitch demanded, heart pounding._

" _Twenty."_

" _Done." Hitch handed over the money. "You'll take it first thing in the morning."_

" _First thing, sweetheart," he promised._

Maybe they're lying. Or maybe they'll forget. Hitch glances over at Marlowe, who blows out the lantern.

 _What have I done?_


	9. The Attack

Armin creeps down the ladder, the steps creaking under his weight. He holds the lantern aloft to watch where he puts his feet.

"Oruo, you have to stop imitating him," snaps Petra's voice from below. Armin frowns. "You aren't even remotely—"

"Fine, fine, tell me again how I'm not remotely like your hero," Oruo says in a bored voice.

Armin rolls his eyes and slips into the small med bay, which reeks of alcohol and decaying vomit. Eren sits on an old mattress, head wrapped in a bloody bandage, Mikasa by his side.

"Armin!" Mikasa breathes.

"I brought you some hard tack," Armin says, digging it out of his satchel "And a little bit of meat. Sasha got it on shore and gave it to me to give to you."

"Sasha parted with her meat?" Eren asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes the bundle, food wrapped in a checkered kerchief.

"Well, Connie gave it to her to give to you," Armin amends. "How's your head?"

"Sore," Eren grumbles, unwrapping the food.

"How did they know we were there?" Mikasa asks.

Armin tells them about Erwin's speculations.

"Do you believe that?" Mikasa asks as Eren eats.

"It's certainly plausible," Armin says as he leans against the wall. It's strange—the rocking of the ship is actually a relief to him at the moment, in comparison to the rocking on shore. Despite the stench, his stomach stays calm. A clunk echoes outside. Something must have fallen. Y _ou can say it. They'll listen. Even if you're wrong, they won't mock you._

"But?" Eren prompts around a mouthful. Mikasa presses her lips together and pinches the edge of her scarf.

"It's—" Armin gulps. "It's also possible someone tipped them off as to where we were going."

"Someone on our ship," Mikasa says. "One of the group that was with us? Or maybe someone followed us?"

"That's ridiculous!" Eren protests.

Armin bites his lip. "Not really. We don't know anyone that well—"

"I know them well enough to say that they'd never do something like that!" Eren shouts, crumbs falling onto his shirt. "They're _good_ people—they've helped us! You can't possibly—"

 _Apparently he won't listen._ "People can be nice and still have different agendas," Armin points out, his heart deflating in his chest. "That aren't necessarily in your best interest. And there was the breeak-in incident on Jean's ship—"

Eren scowls as if he doesn't quite believe it.

"Armin's right, Eren," Mikasa says quietly. "We should be on our guard."

"Don't both of you have work to do?" Eren snaps.

Mikasa blinks back tears. "Feel better soon." He stumbles for the door.

And stops in his tracks. Horror gnaws at his chest, clawing him. His breaths burn.

"Armin?" Mikasa calls, but he frantically flaps his hand, hoping she sees. _Don't move!_

 _I have to do this. By myself._ Armin cringes, gritting his teeth as he steps out. Petra and Oruo both lie in an unceremonious heap below the ladder, unconscious. Armin cranes his neck to peer up the ladder. Two pairs of arms dangle down. _Eld? Gunthur?_ Quickly, he checks for pulses. All there. Blood thrums in his ears.

He glances behind him, at the shadowy, silent corridor. _Someone wants to get to Eren!_

 _But they heard me and Mikasa in there… they've got to still be around here._

 _And what's the point? Where would they even be able to go?_ A chill shimmies down his spine.

Armin throws his head back and screams. " _Mikasa!"_

She bolts out of the med bay, sword out. Eren staggers after her. "We need to help them. Eren will be fine," Armin says loudly. He presses the lantern into Eren's hands, narrowing his eyes. _Don't think too much. Act, you idiot!_ he yells at himself.

Mikasa nods, but Eren's eyes widen as Armin slips back, away from the lantern. _I have to find them. Before they kill someone_. Nausea wells up for the first time in days, but Armin doesn't think it's from the sea. _What am I thinking? I'm not brave! I'm weak!_

"Eren, we'll be right back!" Mikasa hollers, giving Eren a look as if to tell him not to say a word. They need to trick this monster into stepping into the light. Armin's hands fumble for the small pistol Reiner insisted he ought to carry with him. _Can I really use this?_

 _If I have a pistol, I won't be weak. I can protect my friends, finally._

A creak. The hull, or a footstep?

Another one. Armin presses himself back against the hull, trying not to so much as breathe.

Wind catches his face as someone moves by. _It's now, it's now!_ Armin whips out his pistol, metal cool in his hand but—a foot catches him in the back of his knee, throwing him to the deck. Armin cries out as his head strikes the floor. Lights explode in front of his eyes. Aa musket rises above his head, ready to knock him out.

Blue eyes catch his, and Armin's heart freezes. Blond bangs dangle.

" _Annie?"_ he croaks.

 _You're hesitating—why?_

The golden hilt of a sword swings down onto the back of Annie's skull. She yelps, staggering and spitting blood. Mikasa's eyes flash, rage twisting her features as her sword rises higher, higher, higher—

"Mikasa—" Armin cries.

Eren charges, throwing himself at Annie. His elbow collides with her stomach. Her head slams into the wood with a crack.

For a moment, no one moves. Armin's pistol lies next to him, but he can't grasp it. _Did we just—_

 _Annie!_

"She's out," Mikasa says, still keeping her sword aimed at Annie's throat. "But she'll survive. Unfortunately."

"Annie," Eren whispers as Armin struggles to his feet. "She helped me learn to fight—"

 _Annie. You_ — _why? Who are you working for?_ Armin wonders, heart thudding in his chest as his knees press into the rough wood of the deck. Tears sting his eyes. _Why, Annie?_

"Armin," Eren says, reaching down and helping him up. A lump grows in Armin's throat.

 _Why, Annie?_

* * *

"Lock her in the brig," Erwin commands, and Levi hauls Annie, still limp, down the ladder. Petra, Oruo, Gunthur, and Eld will all survive, according to Hange. "We'll question her when she wakes up."

"I can't believe this," Hitch whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. Marlowe looks stricken. "Why would she—"

"She's behind the kidnapping attempt last night," Armin says miserably. Fog surrounds them, stretching out to cloud the horizon. "She has to be."

Eren rubs his eyes as if he still can't believe it either.

"And I had her on my ship!" Jean explodes, gripping his skull. Marco pales next to him. "She's working for the crown, or the Marlay?"

 _What is even the difference?_ Armin wonders. He remembers sitting on the barrels that night, talking to her. _You were my friend._

"We don't know yet," Erwin answers curtly.

"Knocking people out is pretty desperate," Armin manages to say. His teeth chatter even though the air sits heavy and warm. "Where could she even have gone? Someone would have figured it out."

Erwin's face pales as Armin's words sink in.

"What are you saying?" Jean asks.

"I'm saying, she must know something we don't—and it's something we're going to want to know."

"Mike!" bellows Erwin. His second mate looks up. "Go find Levi and Hange, and wake the girl up to question her immediately. We can't afford to delay. Moblit can take care of the patients."

Mike nods, thudding down the steps.

"Take Eren to my cabin," Erwin orders Mikasa, tossing her a brass key. "Stay with him. I suspect he's safest that way."

She narrows her eyes, fist tightening around the hilt of her sword.

"You, kid," Erwin says, rubbing his chin as he looks to Armin. "Go assist with the interrogation."

"Me?" Armin's jaw drops. And he isn't certain he can handle that.

"You're able to see things others can't," Erwin tells him. "You'd be a good captain yourself someday."

 _What?_ "I don't have the stamina." _I'm weak, can't you see I'm weak? I'm useless? I'm everything I don't want to be?_

"Give yourself time." Erwin almost smiles as he strides away, spyglass to his eye.

Armin hesitates. _You really think I can do this?_

"Go, Armin," Mikasa says, and Eren nods.

 _They believe in me._

 _They don't think I'm weak._

 _Can I really do this?_

He has no idea, but damn, he's got to try—got to find out _why_. Armin charges towards the hatch. He climbs down two decks before the entire ship quakes. Armin tumbles to the deck, striking his elbow. _What the hell was that?_

A pungent scent prickles against his nostrils.

 _Gunpowder._

 _What do I do_?

Below him, he hears screaming. Armin pries himself up, legs wobbling, and climbs down another deck level. Sea spray hits him in the face, and a twisted, charred hole gapes at him from the hull.

All the air deserts Armin's lungs. _What the hell?_

"Mike!" screams Nanaba, dropping to her knees. She spots Armin. "Get back up deck! Get to the cannons!"

Armin's stomach lurches as he spots blood pouring out of Mike's side, frothing and dark. "Come on," Nanaba grunts, hauling him by the shoulders. "I'm taking you to Hange."

Through the hole, Armin catches a glimpse of a black ship, with a terrifying monkey-like beast grinning at him from the bow.

* * *

"What the blast is happening?" Levi shouts as the door swings wide. Petra stumbles to her feet.

"Sit down!" Hange barks at the other woman.

"With all due respect, if she can walk, we might need her," Nanaba gasps as she staggers through the opening, dragging Mike. CRimson spills onto the deck with sickening splashes.

"Oh my god!" cries out Moblit, lunging to grab Mike's legs. _Move, get moving_ _—no time to think!_ Levi yanks Gunthur off the table. He moans, still dazed from the head wound Annie gave him.

"We're under attack from the beast ship," Nanaba informs as the ship rocks again. "That Annie—"

 _She works for the Marlay._ Levi's lips curl in rage. Hange's hands shake.

"I'll go up," Petra stammers, but she can hardly walk.

"You'll blow up a cannon at this rate!" Levi snarls. "Sit _down!"_

"Can you save him?" Nanaba demands, her hand caressing Mike's face in an almost romantic manner. If Levi didn't have other things on his mind, he'd call her out for it.

"I don't know," Hange manages, pressing around the wound. "I don't think it hit any internal organs, but he's going to lose a lot of blood, and there are some splinters—"

"I've got the needles ready, Hange," reports Moblit, grabbing a bucket.

"Scrub down. I need help," Hange tells Nanaba. She looks to Levi. "I assume you're needed above deck."

Levi hesitates. "Our new recruits are fully able to load cannons." He grabs the soap and water, trying to push from his mind the fact that Hange and Moblit have been washing their bloody hands in this same bucket.

"Thank you," Hange says, her voice strained. She uses a sponge to wash the blood from Mike's abdomen. "I'm going to need you and Nanaba to hold him down while I yank the splinters out. Moblit, you're going to have to sew him as soon as I give you the okay." One of the splinters is more like a shard.

"Is that Mike?" croaks Oruo, coming around. "The hell _happened?"_

The ship shudders again. Levi's heart drops towards his stomach. The blasts seem closer than normal. _Damn that fog! And damn that little blond bitch—_

"We're doomed," Nanaba ekes out. "There's no—this is the—"

"No," Mike croaks out.

Levi jumps. _You're awake?_

"As long as we keep fighting, we've got a chance… haven't lost yet," Mike murmurs.

Nanaba blinks back tears and sets her jaw. Levi's never seen her look so fierce.

Moblit threads the needle, face pale in the wavering lantern light. Distantly, Levi can make out the booms of cannons. _Good. We're fighting back._

"Sorry, Mike," Hange says. "This is going to hurt." She meets Levi's eyes, and from her look, he understands how grave Mike's situation is.

 _If it's hit an artery, sewing the wound up won't do any good_.

"Come on," Hange mutters. Levi grips Mike's shoulders as she begins tugging with pincers. Mike's eyes roll back into his head as Moblit dumps a bottle of alcohol over the wound and immediately starts sewing.

 _It isn't pulsating,_ Levi realizes.

Hange smears blood on her face in her attempt to wipe flecks from it. She grins at Levi. "We did it!"

"Come on, Mike, stay with us," Nanaba murmurs in his ear.

 _They're definitely lovers,_ Levi realizes, his stomach churning.

"You better get up there," Hange tells Levi as Moblit finishes. Levi nods and charges for the ladder, and as he climbs, he stumbles.

Because the ladder's tilting.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Jean hollers as Reiner grabs Bertolt and drags him off the cannon deck. The sounds explode all around them, and the air is thick with gunpowder and smoke.

 _Not as thick as it's about to be._ Although Bertolt feels no joy at that knowledge. His stomach flips and flops inside him like a fish out of water, and he can barely breathe. His lungs feel seared.

 _Do we have to do this?_

He knows they do. The _Beast_ is no match for the _No Regrets_ , even if he can feel from the lilting deck that the ship is taking on water. Holes can be patched, and if they don't act, the _Beast_ will be in the same position, floundering in the waves.

 _And we'll all die here._

"Leave the lifeboats for later," Reiner pants.

That doesn't make any sense to Bertolt, but he agrees because _maybe_ , if they leave a lifeboat, they won't be entirely responsible. He remembers Connie laughing and dreaming about how he wants to return to his village and buy his parents a nicer house, Jean ridiculing them but also managing to joke, Eren looking _up_ to them as Reiner whispered hints about how to beat Annie in a fight… not that either of them ever could.

 _I'm sorry,_ Bertolt wants to cry as they sink lower into the ship. They dart into the hold where they sleep, where Bertolt grasps the kerosene he's kept hidden in his bag.

"Is that enough to burn the ship?" Reiner asks, his voice dark.

"It has to be," Bertolt manages. "She's already taking on water. We just have to set the—"

"What are you two talking about?" demands a voice.

 _Oh no._ Bertolt stiffens. Reiner's face collapses.

Marco gapes at them.

"We're—" Reiner starts, but Bertolt sees comprehension dawning in Marco's eyes as he looks at the bottle of kerosene.

Marco turns and runs, and Reiner charges after him. "Help me, Bertolt!"

But he can't move. He's frozen. Reiner lunges, tackling Marco around the midsection, and Bertolt's mouth opens to scream, to cry out— _but what's the point?_

No one's ever listened.

"What are you doing?" screams Marco. "Let go of me—" His voice breaks, as if he's actually crying.

"Hit him over the head," Reiner orders, twisting Marco's arms behind his back. Marco struggles, trying to break free, his face turning purple as he strains.

 _Me?_

"He'll go down with the ship."

 _I don't want this, I don't want this, not this, not him, not me!_ "Can't we—"

"He'll tell everyone and then we won't be able to get Eren!" Reiner shouts. "Don't you want to go _home_ , Bertolt?"

 _Home._

Where maybe, just maybe, they'll listen.

Bertolt grabs a lantern, blowing it out. The metal burns his fingertips.

"Don't do this, please!" Marco begs. "We can—why don't we talk this out—we haven't even—"

 _Stop, stop, shut up, shut up!_ But Marco's pleas cut at Bertolt, and he's gasping, gagging himself.

"Now!" Reiner orders.

 _"Why?"_ Marco screams.

And Bertolt swings. There's a crack, and Marco's eyes roll back into his run down Bertolt's cheeks. _We're really murderers now._

" _You'll be heroes of the Marlay."_

 _It was all a lie._ Bertolt's chest heaves. _We're just murderers._

 _And I don't even know why._

Blood trickles down Reiner's fingers. He rubs them together, and shock dawns on his face. "Marco! What happened?" He shakes him.

 _Oh no._ "Reiner," Bertolt says hesitantly. "The fire…" _Don't leave me, don't leave me alone, not right now, please!_

 _Please..._

He wishes he could bash the lantern against his own head, drown out that scream.

 _What if it never ends?_

"But Marco—he's alive; he'll drown!"

"You did this!" Bertolt erupts, grabbing Reiner by the shoulders. _Please—I need you; I need the Reiner who promised to protect me; I'm so scared, so scared._ "Reiner—we have to go home." Because even if the entirety of Eldia hates him, and the Marlay don't make good on their promises, his family will still love him, won't they? It's all he's wanted since he was six—to go back home.

"I—did this?" Reiner looks as if he's going to be sick. He looks _broken_ , and _damn_ , that's terrifying.

 _It's too late._

"Reiner, we need to hurry," Bertolt ekes out. He tugs at Reiner's arm, pulling him back down the ladder. He catches sight of a tear in Reiner's eye. "What—"

"I don't know! How can I not remember?" Reiner slams his hands against his skull as they arrive in the cargo hold. Grain and gold pile high, dry as a bone. "Marco's a nice guy—I—I really—?"

"We can't change it," Bertolt croaks out. "We can only—finish it." _We can't ask for mercy now._

Reiner snatches the kerosene from Bertolt and splashes it all over the area. He pulls out a match, and hesitates.

"We could stop," Bertolt manages, voicing what he wishes, wishes, wishes Reiner had said days ago, because now it's all a filthy, broken, hull of a lie. _We could—could what?_

 _They'd hang us._

Reiner shakes his head and throws the match.

"We have to get Annie out of the brig!" Bertolt shouts as the cargo erupts in flames. _We might get trapped, but_ —"We can't leave her."

Reiner nods, squeezing Bertolt's shoulder and reminding him of the person who always protected Bertolt from the worst whippings the Marlay could dole out. "Let's go."

* * *

"We're taking on water!" Ymir shouts as she grabs Christa, hauling her away from the cannon. "Leave that to Sasha and Connie."

"What?" Christa screams. Even she can feel that the ship is listing, stepper and steeper.

"We have to plug up the hole!" Ymir hollers. "We can do it!"

"I've never—"

"Shoring supplies are below," Ymir yells as she hurtles down the ladder, Christa on her heels. They may be away from the cannons, but their ears throb and ring. She tries to explain the basics of whatever shoring is to Christa, but Christa can barely hear her. Fear presses in on every side. _Is this how I die?_

 _I don't want to die_ , she realizes.

A blast echoes, and the wooden hull around them rips apart. Christa screams as she flies backward, a torrent of water rushing in.

" _Christa!"_ Ymir drags her out of the direction of the spewing, frothing sea. It soaks their ankles, swirling. "We can still fix this. You—"

"Ymir," Christa says, her throat beginning to tingle.

"Listen—"

"Ymir, there's a fire!" Christa shrieks.

Smoke curls through the air around them. Ymir's color drains as she stumbles, trying to head up the slanting corridor and peer around the corner.

"The water—"

"Won't reach there until the damage is already done," Ymir breathes, grabbing her. "We need to get out of here!"

"There's too much water that way!"

"Better than being burned!"

"I beg to differ!"

There's a gurgle, and more water appears to seep up from the ladder below. Ymir backs away, grabbing Christa's hand again and pulling her up the corridor, towards the fire.

Smoke shoves its way into her throat, scraping and peeling her lungs. She gags as they crawl low to the floor. _There should be another ladder somewhere over here…_

 _It must have started in the cargo hold,_ Christa realizes. Her hair feels as if it's melting like wax, sticking to the back of her skull.

A groan, and the ship tilts even more. Christa cries out as something tumbles towards them—a wooden post. She squeezes her eyes shut, expecting it to crush her ribs and lungs.

Nothing.

Cracking her eyes open, Christa sees Ymir barely conscious, blood dribbling from her temples. The wooden post lies across Christa's arm.

"Ymir!" Christa tries to yank it away. The charred wood burns her palms. She cries out.

"Christa!" Ymir jolts awake. "You—"

"You have to get out of here!" Christa shouts.

She hacks. "Hold still!"

"You're going to die if you stay here! Get out! I don't want you to—"

"I'm not leaving you!" Ymir shouts, heaving the post. She pushes with all her might, the pain excruciating. It rolls off.

Christa gapes at her as Ymir slings her good arm around her neck. Her shoulder feels as if it's been burned and the bones pulverized. "I can't make it up the ladder!"

"I'll help you!" Ymir pulls her, and Christa gasps in pain. Smoke fills her lungs, and she coughs so hard she sees sparks.

 _We're both going to die. Because of me._

 _No!_ She pushes herself up, biting her lip so hard she bleeds. A scream rips from her lips, but she keeps going—she won't lie down here—she won't die—and then she's at the top, away from the blistering smoke, and she vomits.

"Christa—"

"Ymir," Christa says weakly. "My name is Historia."

Ymir's eyes widen.

"Hey!" Reiner and Bertolt skid to a stop. Is that _Annie_ , climbing up?

"We're sinking," Ymir tells them. She narrows her eyes as Christa takes in the oily splashes on Reiner's clothes, Bertolt's singed hair.

 _You lit the fire_ , she realizes. "You—"

They know she knows. Heat creeps from below, but Christa's insides feel like they're made of ice.

"You let her go," Ymir wheezes. "You might need me."

"Why would we need—" Reiner starts.

"He knows," Ymir says with a hacking laugh. She points at Bertolt. "Just—let her go."

"What?" Christa gapes at her. "Ymir—"

"She'll die. There's only one way back up and she's not taking it with us," Bertolt cries.

"If she goes fast—" Reiner starts.

Ymir nods, hauling herself to her feet and dragging Christa up with her. "Historia," she says in a tone Christa's never heard before, wavering and afraid. "Run. Run _fast_."

"I'm not—"

Ymir grasps her face and kisses her. Reiner gasps. "Please," she whispers. "Run."

And inexplicably, Historia's legs start to move. Not because she wants to leave Ymir, but because she trusts her.


	10. The Sinking

"I can help!" Eren howls.

"No!" barks Erwin as he darts out of the cabin again. "Stay out of sight!"

Mikasa paces the tiny room, her sword gripped in her hand. Eren clutches the map through his pocket. A bottle of rum tips over and rolls down the floor. Mikasa jumps. The cracks and hisses of cannons are deafening, and somewhere down below, on the gun deck, Eren knows someone has to be hurt—more likely, more than one someone.

Armin scrambles over to the window and gasps. "They're so close!"

Eren and Mikasa rush to the small window. Peering through the smeared glass, Eren spots the Beast, its disgusting carved monster grinning from the bow. It can't be more than a few hundred feet away.

"Erwin thinks they're going to try and board," Mikasa breathes. "That's why—"

"Isn't this the first place they'll think to look, though?" Eren cries out. His heart races and his head swims. _What can I do? What can I do_? "Mikasa—you take the map."

"What?"

"Eren—" Armin intervenes.

"It'll be safer with you—"

"Eren, if they board, Annie will immediately tell them who to look for, and if it isn't with you they'll turn to Mikasa," Armin says. "Or me."

"I can take it," Mikasa says quietly.

 _You fool._ Eren shakes his head. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"You—"

"Maybe you're not the only one who cares about protecting people you care about!" Eren shouts. "I'm not risking you!"

Mikasa blinks. The ship jerks and Armin pales.

"What?" Eren asks.

"We're barely moving," he says. "Our sails are in tatters. They're going to board us."

"I'll kill them before they touch you," Mikasa vows to Eren, tears in her eyes.

Eren claps his forehead. "If I turn myself in, this won't—"

"No!"

"We're going to sink," Armin whispers. Eren and Mikasa both turn to stare at him, his face as white as a ghost's and his lips bloody from gnawing on them. "We're sinking. We can't sail away."

"They can repair ships," Eren insists. Mikasa plants her sword in the deck and he realizes she agrees with Armin.

"We've got lifeboats, but they'll blast us out of the water," Armin mutters, clutching his head. "Think! Think!"

Horror courses through Eren. "Annie's in the brig! It'll be half underwater by now!" He remembers being locked in that reeking cage. He can't imagine drowning there.

"It's probably too late," Mikasa says.

"Maybe not," Armin says. He looks at them. "If she can parley with the Beast ship—"

"She won't help us. Have you forgotten what she did to—"

"I haven't, Mikasa, but we've got to take a chance! If we save her life from the brig, she'll know she's in our debt. Trust me." Armin's eyes flash. He clenches his fists. "I'm going. I'll be back."

"Armin, if you get trapped I won't know!" Mikasa screams, and Eren sees how terrified she is. _Again_ , he thinks. _It's happening again for her._

"You have to trust me," Armin says, marching towards the door.

"I do," Eren says. " _Please_ , Armin." _Save us, somehow. Mikasa can't die like this. I can't let my father down, not this way._

He darts out, and Mikasa buries her face in her hands. Eren sees tears tracking down her cheeks. "Mikasa—"

She uses her scarf, his scarf, to wipe her tears away. "Thank you," she says. "For wrapping this scarf around me."

Eren blinks. He doesn't understand. There's a strange acceptance, a peace in Mikasa's eyes.

"Thank you," she says, stepping closer. "For showing me how to live."

 _You're not going to die now_. Eren grits his teeth. He remembers something Mikasa said once: _the world is cruel, but the world is also beautiful_.

 _You make my world beautiful_ , he thinks as he reaches out, pressing his fingertips to the woolen scarf that his mother knit for him. _And I'm not going to let the world be cruel to you. Not this time._

The door bangs open. Eren whirls around, hoping for Armin, expecting Erwin.

Instead, he sees Reiner and Bertolt, both with what looks like soot smeared on their faces, both panting. Ymir's there too, stumbling and wounded.

"What happened?" Eren explodes.

"She should be in the med bay!" Mikasa yells.

"I'm okay," Ymir ekes out, looking frantically over her shoulder. "Far more—serious injuries—"

"There's a fire below deck!" Reiner shouts.

Eren turns to Mikasa. "Armin—"

"Armin's below deck?" Bertolt echoes, horror creasing his brow.

"He went to get Annie," Mikasa says. Bertolt and Reiner exchange a glance. Ymir snorts.

"Mikasa, you have to get him," Eren pleads, grasping her hand. She looks to him in shock. "He could get trapped—"

"We'll guard Eren," Reiner vows, stepping forward. "No one's getting past us."

"They're the next best thing after you," Eren says. He wants to smile, but he can't. _Please don't die, Armin!_

 _His plan won't work. Annie has to be dead._ Eren's stomach lurches. He grabs Erwin's table, bolted to the floor.

Mikasa nods, sheathing her sword. "I'll be back. Eren—if Erwin tells you to do anything, do it. I trust him."

And she's gone, and Eren's left gripping his knees.

"Sorry, Eren," Reiner says, advancing with his fists curled.

Unease sparks in Eren's belly. He takes a step back. "For what?"

* * *

"Hold what gunpowder you have left!" Erwin's voice booms through the gun deck.

"Why?" yells Connie, face slick with sweat. Sasha's fingers are singed and her neck aches from bending over and carrying heavy bags. She doesn't understand why Erwin would ask them to—

"We're going to surrender," Erwin tells them.

"We can't!" Marlowe explodes. "If they catch—"

"We will not raise a white flag. We will just stop firing. They'll try to board us, but we'll be departing in lifeboats from the starboard side."

"They'll see us."

"They'll also get blown up by our leftover gunpowder," Erwin says. "It'll heavily damage their ship, at least, and hopefully they'll focus on fixing—"

"Where are we going to row to?" Sasha squeaks out. This is not what she wanted when she ran away. She just wanted food… and safety. Not this nightmare.

"In this heavy fog, we won't have to row far for them to lose track of us. And there is an island about a day away."

 _A day?_ Sasha's shoulders throb in protest.

"I'll lower the boats down the starboard side. Be ready to climb into them from the gun deck." Erwin marches away.

"Where's Marco?" Jean asks.

"I haven't seen him," Connie answers wearily. Blood flecks his cheek from that poor pirate whose body still lies in the corner. Sasha doesn't even remember his name.

Jean gets to his feet. "Do you smell smoke?"

Sasha's been smelling smoke for almost a half hour now.

"Cannons," Connie says, as if to rebuke Jean.

"No," Sasha counters. "Jean's right." She gulps as the ship continues to list. "I think we're on fire."

Connie's eyes widen. Hitch gasps, and Jean runs to the ladder.

"Jean, get back!" Connie hollers. "You'll—"

"Levi and Hange might need help getting people out from the med bay!" he yells.

"If they haven't already been blown to pieces," Connie mumbles.

Sasha feels frozen to the deck as Jean's footsteps echo away.

" _You're a coward, Sasha."_

She knows it. All the changes in her home village were too much for her to deal with, so she ran away. And now—and now—Sasha squeezes her fist, tears stinging her eyes. Heat creeps up the back of her neck, her cheeks.

"Sasha?" Connie questions.

 _I'm going to be sick_. Her stomach undulates, but Sasha staggers to her feet. "I have to—go help Hange," she says, wanting to wipe the words from her lips the moment they pass through.

"What?"

Sasha turns and runs; this time, towards the danger. Part of one of the ladders has been blown away. She finds a small hole in the rubble Jean must have jumped through and wriggles through.

"Sasha!"

"What are you doing, Connie?" she yells over her shoulder as she lets go and drops to the deck. The smoke is thicker here, burning her eyes. She coughs.

"I'm not letting you do this alone!"

"Do you want to die?"

"Do you?" He falls, landing on top of Sasha. "Where did Jean go?"

"I don't know!" Sasha drags herself out from under him. _You're not alone,_ she reminds herself, heart thumping. "Thanks, Connie."

He casts her a strange look. "Of course."

He says it like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to run into danger. Sasha's not like that. "I'm scared."

"I wish I'd never left home," Connie admits as they make it to the deck where the med bay's located.

 _You, too?_ She meets his eyes. He almost smiles. _You understand._

"Oh, thank God!" barks Hange, Petra leaning on her frame.

"We're abandoning ship," Connie informs her. Levi appears with Oruo, who staggers but can walk on his own, and Eld, who wobbles.

"That way!" Sasha helps pull them up. Gunthur manages to crawl through on his own as well, but Mike—Levi returns to help Nanaba carry him. His shirt's missing and his side's been bandaged as tightly and heavily as Sasha imagines it can be, and still blood droplets appear like sinister roses.

"Sasha, you lead them ahead!" Hange barks.

 _Lead?_ Sasha blinks. "O—okay!"

"Hey!" Jean's voice echoes through the dark as she helps push Petra through the narrow hole.

" _Jean!"_ screams Connie. "You're—"

He appears from the corridor, hacking. Marco's slung over his shoulder, unconscious.

"What happened?" Sasha yelps, sticking her head through the hole to peer down at him.

"No idea! He's alive, though!"

Hange swears. "I'll pull him up," Levi grouses as he appears up the ladder. "After you."

Jean hesitates.

"Trust me or don't trust me!" Levi barks. "Make your choice!"

Jean scrambles over. Connie gives him a boost, and Sasha hauls him through the hole. Hange follows, and then Levi pushes Connie, and Sasha has to run on ahead to the last ladder, hoping and hoping that they make it to the gun deck, all of them.

"You made it!" screams Hitch when they reappear.

"Marco!" cries Marlowe.

"Lie down, Mike," Nanaba encourages. He moans.

"Get him in the first boat," Hange orders as it lowers down. "Nanaba, Levi, you go with them, Petra, and Oruo, Marco and Jean. And Connie, Sasha, you go too—enough of you can row. And Hitch and Marlowe, you can fit—"

"The boat's going to need you," Levi points out. "Doctor."

Hange hesitates.

"I can stay behind. I'll go with Eld and Gunthur," Levi says. "And direct everybody else."

Hange narrows her eyes. "You better get in a boat, Levi." And then she turns to Sasha. "Help pull Mike in."

Sasha nods, clambering out. The moment she's on the small lifeboat, suspending in the air by pulleys, her heart starts to hammer. Her shoulders scream at her as she grabs Mike by the shoulders, pulling him into the boat. "Sorry!" she gasps, even though she doubts he can hear her.

Marco comes next, and then Jean, and the boat's filling up.

"Reiner," mumbles Marco.

"You're awake!" Jean looks almost in tears.

"Bertolt," Marco ekes out.

"They'll be fine," Jean assures Marco as they lower towards the water. Sasha grips an oar. "They'll get in another boat; we have plenty—"

"No, they—they're—working for—with Annie—"

"What?" shouts Hange.

* * *

Annie curses herself. She shouldn't care if Christa dies. Since Christa _knows_ , she should even want that. But as Annie weaves her way through the ship's library, gathering what she can before everything falls apart, she spots the girl creeping by. As Christa heads off in a direction that will surely lead to her being trapped, Annie's conscience screams at her.

She hears the sound of a cat mewing, and fear scrapes at her. Annie whirls around to see the ship's cat racing by her, after Christa. "No!"

 _The hell with this,_ Annie decides, charging off after her. " _Christa!"_

A figure tumbles down one of the ladders, knocking into Annie. She screams, kicking. Armin grunts.

 _Armin?_ Annie gapes at him. _No, please no!_

"You're free," he gasps. "How?" In his grip, she sees the brass keys to the brig.

"What are you doing with those?" she snaps, choking as smoke shoves its way into her lungs.

"Coming to save you!"

Annie can't breath. _Even after—what I did?_

A huge crackling echoes from above, and a sickening moan. The entire deck above them shudders, and the ceiling splinters. Armin yelps.

"The mast," Annie breathes.

Armin pales. "If you grab a rope, you can swing over to their ship. Your ship."

The words sound distasteful to Annie. "I know." She grabs her canvas bag of maps and scrolls. "We need to head back the way you came; it's the only way that isn't blocked by now and it will be in another five minutes." _But Christa—the cat—_

Armin nods, grasping the ladder. "Annie?"

Her legs tremble. _Dammit!_

 _I really am weak._

She turns and runs in the other direction. She hears Armin curses, and then a thud. _No!_ "Go back!" she screams at him, turning to see him crumpled in a heap on the deck. "Christa is—do you want to be trapped too?"

Armin blanches. "What did you do to her?" he shouts.

"I did nothing! She went the wrong way!" Annie swears. She can't do anything but plunge ahead and hope for a miracle. A voice that sounds an awful lot like Reiner's echoes in the back of her head, accusing her of having a weak commitment.

Unlike Armin. He rushes after her, his lips pressed together and eyes determined. _"Christa!"_

"Christa!" Annie calls. Dammit, the smoke's thicker over here. Her lungs tremble.

"Armin?" Christa answers feebly.

Annie darts to the left, rattling the heavy door. "Christa!"

It swings open. Christa shrieks when she sees her, a pathetic cat huddling in her arms. "You!"

"She's helping me find you!" Armin shouts.

"You lit the ship on fire!"

"What?" Armin turns to gape at Annie.

"Reiner and Bertolt," Annie says. "We're working together." The bag of scrolls, so light minutes ago, feels heavy now. She coughs. Her lungs smart.

"I can't open the hatch in here!" Christa cries. Ash is smeared over her face, and her shoulder hangs limp. Blood runs down her arm; the other clutches the cat, who howls.

"It's chained," Annie ekes out. "You won't be able to—we have to go back—"

"The fire—" Armin starts.

"It's our only chance!" Annie shouts at them.

Another groan echoes above. Annie freezes.

 _Crack_.

"Get out of the way!" Armin throws himself at both Christa and Annie, pushing them back. The deck above them shudders.

 _Another mast came down,_ Annie realizes. She pries herself off the floor—if only it'd broken through the deck—the ship's tilting so much she has a hard time getting to her feet. "Help me smash the window, Armin."

"And then what?"

"Can't you swim?"

He nods. Christa blanches. "I can't."

"I'll help you," Annie tells her. "I promise." _Only to kill her later?_

" _Promise me you'll return,"_ her father told her, surprising her with a hug for the first time in her life, providing that one kernel she clings to at night: he cares for her.

Christa's father, if she's who Annie suspects she is, did nothing of the sort. _They can't die._

 _I can't do this._

 _I'm weak._

She looks into Armin's eyes as he grabs a stool. He's physically weak, but he's stronger than Annie in ways that matter more.

"Give that to me." She dumps her scrolls and maps. They'll get wet, anyways. Raising the stool above her head, she charges for the window, slamming it against the glass.

Nothing.

 _Again!_ Annie smashes the leg into the window. This time, it chips. After three more strikes, it splinters, and with her hands blistering, glass showers down into the water. Annie grips the edge and slides through easily enough. She dangles there. "I'll let go," she calls. "And then Christa, you come and I'll get you, okay? And Armin—" They don't have far to fall, and they'll have to risk the glass. "There's a lifeboat! I'll get you to it."

And she lets go, tumbling into the ocean. It swallows her, cold and burning. She gags, kicking furiously to break the surface. A splash echoes next to her, and Annie doesn't even have time to blink the sweater from her eyes before she grabs Christa. "Don't panic!" she orders, holding the girl as she treads water. Another splash, and she knows Armin's made it.

The cat yowls, clawing at Christa. "Give it to Armin!" Annie chokes out. _Stupid animal—if you keep scratching you'll drown!_

She heads for the lifeboat.

* * *

"Where's Christa?"

Mikasa can hear Ymir screaming above her before she reaches the gunner's deck. _Please be—_

 _No Armin_. She searched as far as she could for him, but couldn't find a sign of him.

She races to the edge, peering off at the lifeboats floating nearby. "Armin! Christa's there!" she bellows, hoping Ymir hears her. _Swimming—with Annie?_ Sasha hauls them into a lifeboat.

"What the hell?" she hears Levi breathe behind her.

"Last lifeboat!" Erwin shouts from up above. Levi grunts, and that's when Mikasa notices the piles of gunpowder bags, and the line running towards it.

"You're—"

"It's our only shot," Levi says.

"Where's Eren?"

"Already on that lifeboat." Levi points below, to the one that's just hit the water with Ymir, Bertolt, and Reiner in it as well.

And no one else. _How many people have we lost?_

Mikasa's head pounds. It feels as if someone's squeezing her skull, grinding her brain. _He left without me?_

"Everyone who isn't essential is gone bow," Levi says. "Except you. We need to—"

Eren's head is down in the boat, and Reiner has a strong arm wrapped around him. Ymir isn't rowing, either—she's leaving it to Bertolt and Reiner, and sits stiff.

"Get in," Levi orders, and Mikasa clambers into the last lifeboat. Levi follows, and the smell of smoke and gunpowder and blood fade. Seven other pirates huddle.

"How is the captain getting down?" Mikasa asks Levi.

Levi doesn't have to answer. Erwin leaps down as Levi cuts the ropes from down below. Mikasa grabs an oar, rowing with all her might.

With a flash, the ship explodes. Heat sizzles against Mikasa's skin, and a wave throws their lifeboat. For a moment Mikasa fears they'll tip over, but they slam back down against the surface.

"Head towards the others," Erwin orders, hunching forward without looking at his destroyed ship, the one Mikasa suspects he's had since his navy days. Sasha's boat floats closer, having just picked up Annie, Armin, and Christa, but several others dot the horizon, vanishing into the fog.

Hange cups her hands around her mouth, seemingly yelling something at them, but Mikasa can't make it out. They need to get away from the Beast ship—

Something slithers down Mikasa's spine. She jerks her head to the left.

Eren's boat.

Rowing away from the group.

And what Hange's yelling—Armin, too—sounds suspiciously like " _Reiner"_ and " _Bertolt_."

Mikasa drops her oar and Levi snatches it. " _No!"_

"What the hell do you think you're—"

"They have Eren!" Mikasa screams, standing. She'll jump in—she'll swim—even if that horrible Marlay—

"Stop!" Levi grabs her by her waist. "You can't! You'll die!"

"Eren will die! And Ymir—" Mikasa's heart throbs. Tears pour down her throat. She screams into her scarf.

"We'll never make it," Erwin says, as he examines the distance between them. "They'll shoot us out of the water."

"So we just give up?" Mikasa shouts in his face. "You—"

"Shut up!" Levi yells, grabbing her.

"But Eren—"

"We can't! Not in our position, not now!" Levi shakes her. The water swirls behind him, all around them.

 _I failed,_ Mikasa thinks. A lump settles in her chest. _I failed._


	11. The Rescue

Erwin gets them to tie their lifeboats together with long, loose pieces of rope, and they take turns rowing to keep warm. Even so, Levi can hear Mikasa's teeth chattering, and Mike, draped in both Hange and Nanaba's cloaks, moans periodically.

"Why is she even here?" snaps Oruo, jerking his thumb towards Annie. "She knew, and she—"

"She saved our lives," Armin interjects. Christa nods, wiping at her eyes. A cat meows from their boat.

 _Really? You saved the cat?_

"And sacrificed Eren and Ymir's," Oruo points out.

"And almost took ours," Petra puts in.

"They won't kill them," Annie says. "Not yet. Eren, not at all."

"What are you saying?" Christa shouts. "They'll kill Ymir?"

"I don't know! Reiner might protect her, I don't know, I _don't know!"_

Levi's palms smart as if even if callouses aren't enough to protect him from hours and hours of rowing. The sun's sunk below, and it's dark and cloudy. _Are we even heading in the right direction?_ Without the stars, he can't tell. Erwin looks increasingly worried. "What _do_ you know, brat?"

"They don't tell me much," Annie snaps. "Only that we're looking for a treasure on an island that can stop this war. They wanted us to infiltrate to try and—"

"So, the map," Mikasa says, her eyes glittering. Levi smirks. She looks as if she could kill Annie.

"I don't know what it is."

"If Marlay—wants to end the war," Jean says as he rows furiously, Marco clutching his skull next to him. "Why don't they just agree to negotiations?"

"They don't want to end the war," Annie replies. "The king wants to destroy whatever that is."

"We can't let that happen," Armin squeaks out.

"There isn't much we can do, stranded in the middle of the goddamn ocean!" shouts Oruo.

"We'll reach an island eventually," Erwin says.

"And _then_ what?"

" _Oruo_ ," Levi snaps.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Oruo mutters, face flushing. Petra puts her hand on his shoulder.

Levi refuses to let anyone take over rowing for him. He needs his blood pumping. When he gets his hand on the captain of that ship…

"Why did you switch sides?" Erwin asks Annie, calmly.

"How do we know she isn't playing us?" calls Gunthur weakly.

Annie presses her lips together. "I didn't want to let Armin or Christa die."

"More details," Erwin commands.

Annie scowls. "I'm one of the Eldian people left behind."

"So you're a double traitor?" Oruo cries out.

"Oruo—" Armin starts.

"Your country pretends we don't exist; why would I owe you any loyalty?" Annie demands. "The Marlay at least dangle a string of hope that maybe someday they'll accept us. They acknowledge us, even if it's as lesser beings. Eldia doesn't acknowledge us at all."

Water swishes. Levi swallows. He'd give anything to drink some of it, but he knows what seawater does to a man. Plus, all kinds of diseases could be teeming in it. His throat aches, parched. His skull throbs.

"I do," Erwin says.

The sun begins to streak the sky as Annie speaks, detailing more of her story, deliberately leaving some parts out, Levi can tell. He doesn't trust her. She almost killed his crew. Oruo, Petra, Gunthur, and Eld—he's taken each of them under his wing, trained them to reach their full potential. In some ways, they remind him of the friends he's lost—

"What's that?" Marlowe calls, standing up in his lifeboat.

"Sit down!" Hange barks.

Erwin pulls out his spyglass. Levi squints, peering at the horizon, where a dark blotch sits. _Is it a cloud?_

"It's a ship," Erwin announces.

"The Beast—" Levi starts.

"No." Erwin puts down his spyglass, looking pale in the rising dawn. "A naval ship."

Hitch, that soldier, claps her hands to her face as if in horror.

"Dammit," Levi says. This sense of helplessness enrages him. _We're going to be saved only to die_.

Within two hours, the naval frigate, bearing the colors and crest of the Eldian royal family, drops ladders and orders them to climb. They could refuse and keep rowing, but Levi knows that they'll be blasted out of the water. At the very least, Mike needs medical care—as much care as they'll afford a pirate. Erwin's brow furrows, as if he's considering how to get out of this one.

As soon as Levi's boots hit the deck, he knows that the Eldian naval captain knows exactly who they are. The wings of freedom flag lies tattered, scorched, and soaked on deck.

"I figured they'd want proof," says the captain smugly as soldiers grab Levi's arms. He punches one of them in the face.

"Stop it, Levi," comes a voice as a musket cocks.

Levi lifts his face to see a face he hasn't seen in years smiling down at him. In his hesitation, the soldiers clap manacles on his wrists.

"Take them to the brig," says Kenny.

 _You?_ For a moment, Levi can't speak. He gapes at the man, a specter from his childhood. The soldiers' arms wrap tighter around him, securing him. Even hearing his voice makes him smell blood, again, hear someone screaming, hear Kenny's lessons echoing in his ears. He wishes for water to wash his hands, scrape off the salt and the grime.

The soldiers try to haul Levi away. Erwin too.

 _No! You at least owe me an explanation!_ Levi jabs his elbow back, trying to wrestle out of the soldiers' grip. _This can't be—you—what the hell are you doing working for the government? Did I drink the seawater after all? Am I hallucinating?_

"Don't hesitate to use force on them," Kenny orders.

"The hell are you doing here?" Levi snarls, but his voice is overridden by the captain's.

"Which of you sent the message?" demands the captain, a balding man with a fair face. "From that seedy town—"

Hitch lowers her face. "I did."

"Well," says Kenny. "She can't prove she isn't a pirate, can she? She's not in uniform." He steps closer to her, leering down.

Levi cringes.

"Don't touch her!" Marlowe shouts.

"Some of us need a doctor!" Jean shouts as one of the soldiers pushes Marco. Mike hits the deck, barely conscious.

"No," says Kenny. "You'll have to make do in the cells."

"No," snaps the captain. "I'll see to it that they're attended to. Even if in the brig. We're not all monsters like you, Kenny. And you can keep your cat, girl," he adds to Annie, who nods as she strokes the animal's singed head.

Levi can't help but smirk. Unfortunately for him, Kenny sees and sends his boot into Levi's face.

* * *

It's hours before a soldier comes with water and bread. Hange and Levi are locked in a cell with Mike, Marco, and the other injured. Four full cells hold them, the new recruits all in one, and the rest in the other three. _So many of us died,_ Levi realizes. A solitary lantern burns on the wall by the ladder, and the brig reeks of sour soup and rat droppings.

"Why did you send for them?" Marlowe can't help but burst out.

Hitch wraps her arms around herself. "Because I was scared! Because I—didn't want to be a pirate!"

Christa presses her face against the iron bars, breathing deeply. Annie leans against them, her expression stoic.

"If we trade her," says another crewmember. "If we tell them we have a Marlayan spy—"

"We're not doing that," Erwin cuts in.

"She used to be a soldier," Levi says. "They'll never believe it. And if they do, Kenny will slit her throat before she can talk. They don't want that kind of embarrassment."

Hange's eyes slide to him. Levi scowls. So far no one's asked how Levi knows Kenny. Mike looks slightly less pale, at least, and through the bars, Nanaba grasps his hand.

"They won't let us merchants go either, will they?" Jean asks. "We're liabilities."

"And refugees who escaped the settlement," Armin says gloomily. "We'll be considered pirates because it's easier."

Mikasa clutches her hip, where her sword should be. Christa clutches her skull.

"This is terrible," Connie says bleakly. "Instead of returning home to my village with money, they'll hear I've been hanged—"

"Which village you come from, boy?" asks a voice. Levi crosses his arms as Kenny drops down to the deck. He wears a sadistic grin as he plucks a curved knife from his belt.

Connie doesn't answer. Sasha reaches out and takes his hand. _Interesting_ , Levi thinks.

"I asked you a question," Kenny says, holding a bucket. "And if you want water, you better answer."

"Ragako," Connie says.

Kenny throws his head back and laughs. "They're all dead."

"Excuse me?"

"But that's inland!" Jean objects.

"Don't listen to him, Connie, he's trying to—" Sasha starts.

"Sorry, pretty girl, but I saw it myself."

Sasha flinches.

"The Marlay attacked them. Only one woman survived, and she's in prison because she's insane, babbling—"

"Who?" Connie demands, grabbing the bars with force. "Who—"

"I dunno." Kenny shrugs.

"I doubt she's insane," Armin says quietly. _She probably found something out,_ Levi realizes.

"Don't cast doubt on me, boy." Kenny slides his fingers along the edge of his knife as he hands over the bucket. "One spoonful each."

At least the spoon is rather deep, Levi observes.

"You!" Jean bursts out. "You're Kenny the Ripper! That serial killer—"

Marco splutters, almost choking on his water. Kenny laughs. "I don't deny it."

"The crown hired you?"

"Naval captain Erwin Smith hired this thug," Kenny says, jerking his thumb towards Levi. He grabs the bucket out from the cell, locking it again, and opens Levi's cell. More footsteps echo, and another soldier comes down to pass a bucket into Erwin's cell. The rusted door shriek as they open. "Maybe it was just evidence of his criminal leanings."

"Shut up," Levi says, finishing the stale water.

"Don't say that again to me, fool." Kenny tosses the knife into the air and catches it. He grins. "You've seen what I can do."

Levi's heart pounds. He looks down to his grimy, salt-encrusted boots.

"Did you all know that that mankind's most feared pirate grew up following me around?" Kenny calls. "Watching me dismember people?"

Levi's stomach turns. _The only reason I'm not going to kill you when you take that water back is because you'd hurt my friends._

Kenny chuckles, and then his face stiffens when he catches sight of Levi's expression, his clenched fists. "But I wasn't fit to raise a child."

Hange steps forward, her breath tickling Levi's cheek.

"You abandoned me after only a few months," Levi says. "That hardly counts as growing up. Although if this is your way of telling me that you're my father—"

Kenny spits. _Disgusting_. "I'm not your father. I'm your uncle."

Levi freezes. _What?_

"Your mother was my baby sister," Kenny tells him. Is his voice actually trembling? "I lost her for a few years and found her working in a brothel, pregnant with you. And then I was gone for a few more years, and she'd gone and died of tuberculosis."

Levi remembers that day. His fingernails dig into his skin. Even Mike's awake, watching him.

"No point reminiscing about Kuchel," Kenny says finally, grabbing the bucket. "Let's go." He and the soldier head up the ladder, leaving Levi behind.

"Levi—" Hange stops, but one look is enough to stop her.

"He means nothing to me," Levi says quietly. "But she was a good mother." Rage twists, burning. He kicks at the bars. "We have to get out of here."

"How?" Hange demands.

"If we don't, we're all going to the noose. If we're lucky. You know what they'll do to Erwin," Levi mumbles, keeping his voice down. Erwin turns to him with a scowl. There's no way he overheard, but of course he knows what Levi said anyways.

He's not letting the man who actually gave a shit about him, who thought he had potential, have the skin flayed from his back, have the crowd roaring at his screams.

"If it weren't that serial killer," Hange says. "I would suggest jumping the guards when they bring food and water."

"I don't care that he's my uncle," Levi says.

"I don't either," Hange states. "But there's no point in trying before we get to land."

"When they lock us up in that stone fortress?"

"No," Hange says meaningfully, peering down at him. Levi notices that the right lens to her spectacles is cracked. "On the way."

 _Oh_. A smile tugs at Levi's lips.

"How is that going to work?" Marco asks.

"It'll be bloody," Levi answers shortly. "And possibly unsuccessful." _But at least Kenny will be dead._

 _Is that really what you want?_

 _I want the deaths to_ stop _._

* * *

"Do you regret it?"

The murmur of voices breaks apart Historia's dizzy doze. She pries her eyes open to see only blackness. The lantern's gone out, and snores echo around her.

She's been in this cell for three days, sweating and shivering, eating moldy hard tack that broke one of Hange's teeth and listening to rodents squeak. Any hour now, and they'll reach shore.

 _Ymir, where are you?_ Historia wonders. She's so used to the sea now she barely realizes that it's rocking back and forth in the waves. And somewhere above is that monster, that uncle of Levi's who slit her mother's throat. He doesn't seem to recognize her.

"No," Annie answers. "I don't see the point. If I did, it wouldn't change anything."

 _Why did they take you, Ymir?_ Historia looks in the direction of Annie and Armin's voices, but she can't make them out.

"What's going to happen to Eren?" Armin tries again.

"I don't know. I just know that we were instructed to bring him."

"Alive or dead?"

"It wasn't specified." She snorts. "You should sleep."

"So should you."

"But you can't, can you?" she asks. "You're worried about Eren."

"He protected me growing up."

Annie's quiet. "No one protected me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. My father taught me to protect myself." Annie's quiet for a moment. "No one helped each other when we were in training—well, Reiner tried to help Bertolt and Marcel by encouraging them, but he was the only one who did."

"You saved Christa and me," Armin points out. The cat meows as if to say _me, too._

"And doesn't that mess with your ideas of the world? I've hurt you. Without me Reiner and Bertolt never would have taken Eren. Or Ymir. I still don't know why they took her."

Christa bites down on her filthy knuckles. She tastes oil.

"And I've also helped you," Annie continues. "So now you owe me. I don't want to die."

"I don't want you to die, either," Armin hisses. "Eren will escape, if—"

"I doubt it."

"Where are they taking him?"

"The island. And then the Marlayan capital, I assume. It's where we trained, after they took us from our families when we were kids. They figured we knew the language. They thought we could better adapt to the culture than Marlayan spies. I've been in Eldia since the fall of Fort Shiganshina."

Christa stiffens. She hears Armin's intake of breath.

"Yeah, you get it now, don't you? I was there. I fired cannons at you and your family. Eren's mother—"

" _Stop_ ," Armin hisses. "I don't—get it Annie. You want me to hate you, you want me to think you're a good person—which is it?" His voice drops. "You're not as skilled at manipulating as you think you are."

"Unlike you?" Annie sighs. "I hope you're right, and Eren and Ymir both come sailing back here. Only what would they find? Us on a noose?"

"Eren's smart. He'll think of a way—"

"How? But forgetting to be human? By ignoring that part of himself to save himself? I've heard you talk before. You don't save yourself when you forget who you are. You turn into me." Annie draws in her breath. "There's a difference between being analytical and being heartless."

"It's war. None of us are getting out cleanly." Armin coughs. "If we can even escape."

 _"Exactly,"_ Annie spits.

"It doesn't sound like anyone ever gave you the chance to be who you want to be," Armin says quietly.

"The world is cruel," says Mikasa, startling Historia, who hadn't known she was awake. "But the world is also beautiful. I need to live. I need to escape—Eren is part of that beauty, to me, and if he dies—"

"The world will just be cruel?" Annie asks.

"No," Mikasa says. "I want to remember him, and he'll be beautiful there, but—I need to do everything I can to save him."

Footsteps echo above them. Someone shifts.

"If we find a way to escape," Annie says. "I'll help you try and find them." She sniffles.

 _You just want to be a good person,_ Historia realizes. _Like me._

 _You never had a chance._

 _What chance have any of us had, with the world being torn apart by this awful war?_

A war that apparently, her father perpetuates. Historia gulps.

Her father.

 _I'm not Christa Lenz_.

A lantern's light creeps in, slinging along the walls. Kenny chews tobacco, looking down at them, most asleep. "Wake up!" he shouts.

Even though she's already awake, Historia jumps.

"We're here," Kenny announces. Levi glowers at him, and Erwin stares back, calm but for a twitch in his jaw. Sasha clings to Connie, and Jean draws in his breath. "'Bout to dock. And you're all going straight to the fortress, and you merchants and soldiers will have your cases evaluated." He laughs. "You pirates better look up when you disembark. It might be the last sunlight you ever see."

Will it work, if she does it? What if he slits _her_ throat, this time?

More footsteps, as if in answer to a prayer. The bald captain marches down, carrying several iron chains. He has a fair sort of face, and the way his lips curl when he looks at Kenny—it gives Historia hope, propels her racing heart forward.

"You're going to take me to see my father," Historia says, clutching the iron bars and dragging herself to her feet.

"Huh?" Connie asks.

Kenny snickers, eyes sliding up and down Historia in her stained and rumpled dress, the sleeve torn and drooping off her bandaged shoulder. "Don't think so, pretty, unless you're prepared to offer me some—"

Histooria wants to wilt, drop back down to the mucky deck and cover her head with her hands. But she can't. _Ymir, Ymir—what would you want me to do?_

She glares at him. "Clemency?"

Kenny blinks, recognition dawning. "You're in no position to—"

"I am Historia Reiss," she says. " _Not_ Christa Lenz. And you had better tell the king that his bastard daughter wants to see him."

"The king has another daughter?" asks the bald man. "Or is she babbling—"

"My mother's name was Alma," Historia continues. She can't look at her friends, but she sees Hange gaping at her. "A servant in the king's household. Kenny murdered her right after the rest of the royal family was killed."

More clanks. Several soldiers have paused in the doorway.

Historia's heart slams against her ribcage. Her chest aches, as if it wants to explode. She knows her implication isn't true, but it might be enough.

"Your estate," Kenny says. "Is nowhere near—"

 _There_. He's toying with her, giving her what she wants.

"So this girl _is_ who she says she is?" demands the bald captain.

"And he could not have hurt the rest of the family," Historia confirms, giving him what he wants now. "Our estate was too far away."

"Get her out of there," snaps the bald captain. "Immediately! Girl, why didn't you say anything?"

"The only heir," murmurs a female soldier. "Eldia does have hope! See how she resembles Princess Frieda, but with blond hair?"

Historia meets Levi's eyes, Connie's, Jean's. She squeezes Armin's shoulder as she lips out through the bars.

 _I'm going to get you out of this._


	12. The Princess

" _Historia!"_

The sun shines down on her matted hair. Seagulls swoop and caw overhead, and the air reeks of rotting seawater and moldy hay. Her friends stand in a line, chained together in the courtyard of the Sina fortress. She squints as a man rushes towards her.

 _The king?_

His cape billows behind him. The crown winks at her, gold and emerald on his head.

 _Father?_

He's barely even looked at her before, and now he's rushing towards her, folding her filthy body up in his arms. "Our princess," he babbles, holding Historia's hand high as he turns her to the soldiers milling about the fortress. They frown, cocking their heads. "My heir."

 _I look nothing like a princess right now._ Her rags cling to her, and her face is smeared with dirt.

"She was in hiding," the king says lamely. "After they killed her siblings and the queen."

 _And_ he _killed my mother._ Historia narrows her eyes at Kenny, who leans against the stone wall with a blasé expression on his face. He puffs on a cigar. She'd like to make him eat it.

"But now she's returned!" cheer King Rod, turning to beam at her.

Historia's heart lurches. This wasn't what she expected. He didn't want her. She's always known that. But why—why now—

Behind her, chains clank. Historia spins to see terror biting at Hitch and Marlowe's faces, despair sinking Jean's. "Father," she says, forcing her voice to remain calm as she uses a word she's always ached to use. "I need to speak with you about—"

"Later, later," says Father, waving his hand. "You need to come to the palace, wash up—"

"These pirates saved my life," Historia interrupts. _He's already announced me as his heir, right?_ Her heart pounds. What if she alienates him?

"Did they?" asks the captain who brought her here. Dot Pixis, his name is.

"We were attacked," Historia says loudly. _By Marlayans,_ she wants to say, but she can't. She'll tell Father that in private, see his reaction—see if it's true—"I almost drowned and was injured when the ship caught on fire, but—"

"And they kidnapped you in the first place!" roars the king. "Right? From a merchant vessel?"

 _No, I joined willingly because I thought you hated me_. But Historia nods. She can explain the truth to him later. "The captain of that vessel—Jean Kirschstein, and Marco Bott—they were captured, too. They have nothing to do with piracy." Her voice rings through the air. "And those three soldiers—Annie Leonhart, Hitch Dreyse, Marlowe Freudenberg—neither do they, and the two refugees—"

"The refugees?" Her father's eyes darken as he takes in Armin and Mikasa, the former of whom looks nervous and the latter of whom looks as if she'd like to finish whatever Eren's father started. "They left the settlement—suspiciously, many refugees did after your siblings were slaughtered."

Historia flinches. _I should have just said Armin and Mikasa were passengers and left it at that!_ Kenny grins. "But Captain Kirchstein and the rest behaved nobly, saving—"

"All right, all right," snaps Father. He waves his hand at Pixis. "Let them go."

Historia could collapse in relief. _Stay standing. Stay strong._

Pixis nods, grabbing a set of jangling keys. "We can question them, though, your majesty?"

"Of course," he answers absently, plucking at a ruby ring he wears.

Pixis inserts the key, freeing Jean, who stumbles as if he can't believe Historia actually set him free, and set him free knowing that he'd joined the pirates. Of course, they know she did, too.

Historia hopes they've got enough sense not to contradict her story. It wouldn't endanger her so much as it would endanger them, she suspects. Her mind gallops ahead, and she clutches her skull. Why oh why can't she have the wits of Ymir?

" _Bullshit," she can almost hear Ymir saying. "You've got talents I don't have, too. Like being likeable."_

"When you're finished questioning them," Historia calls to Pixis, watching as Marco rubs his wrists. She widens her eyes. "Send them to meet with me. I want to thank them." She catches Jean's eyes as she speaks, and hopes he catches what she needs them for.

"I missed you so much," Father chatters as he helps Historia into a carriage. "I—"

Kenny drags himself inside, and Historia gasps.

"Historia, surely you're not concerned about Kenny?" asks Father, amused. "He's here to protect us. He's a guard, like he was for King Uri."

Uri was her father's older brother, who died without leaving any heirs when Historia was twelve. She still doesn't trust Kenny, and judging from the look he gives her father, as if Uri's name should not spill from his soiled lips, Father shouldn't trust him either.

 _You know_ , Historia realizes. _You know about what he did to my mother—did he force you? Is it really Kenny running this kingdom?_ Her fists curl.

At the palace, servants usher Historia away from Kenny's glowers and into a marble bath, where Historia scrubs herself in warm, lavender-scented water until she feels clean for time in months. And then she remembers Ymir, and her heart plummets.

 _I don't have time to waste._

She opts for an emerald gown over lilac, remembering the wings of freedom that flew above the _No Regrets_ with a lump in her throat. What kind of "interrogation" must Erwin be undergoing?

"We're so happy to have you here," gushes one of the servants, a plump woman who looks grandmotherly. "The kingdom will rejoice to hear that we've got an heir after all!"

Funny, how her status as a bastard now appears irrelevant. Historia swallows. _If I ever become queen, I will do justice to you and rule rightly._

But she doesn't know if that'll happen, because she is determined to rescue Ymir first. And Eren. If she stays here, Historia fears Kenny will slit her throat in the night.

"Where is my father?"

"In court."

"Where is that?" Historia inquires. The servant leads her down a stunning staircase. Historia feels as if she could throw up. The stairs sway as if she's still at sea.

"Historia!"

Apparently whatever court her father was holding has been adjourned, because he sweeps out of two enormous doors, embracing her in front of everyone. This time, Historia embraces him back.

 _Maybe… maybe he does love me…_ She presses her chapped lips together and remembers Ymir, remembers her kisses.

 _She loved me when there was nothing to gain._

"I need to speak with you," she says, voice trembling.

"Of course, of course!" He nods at a scowling businessman and his anxious, pudgy son. "Thank you for coming, Flegel."

"No loan?" the servant asks in a soft voice. The king doesn't hear, but Historia does.

Flegel shakes his head, a look of despair and anger marring his face. "I don't know what will become of my business now."

 _You denied them a loan?_ Maybe he had a good reason.

"He's an ineffectual king," another passerby mutters.

Historia gulps and trots after her father, past halls decorated with tapestries of Eldian history, of a goddess bestowing her powers upon them. They turn left and arrive at another hallway, carved pillars arching up towards the ceiling, and enormous windows open to the city. On second glance, Historia sees that it's actually more of a balcony—the windows have no glass. A breeze wafts through, brushing Historia's still-drying hair. "I want to talk to you about Erwin Smith and his crew."

"Ah, yes," Father says, meandering over to the edge of the balcony. "It's been years we've been trying to capture them, and to think my daughter is the one who did it!"

 _He's an ineffectual king…_

"Pixis captured us," Historia corrects. _With some help from the Marlay._ "Father, while I was on board, I found that they—they're not really working against Eldia. They want to stop the war, and they have a good lead—you could strike a deal with them—"

"And let them go?" Father recoils. "How could you suggest such a thing?"

 _Clearly because I'm being too optimistic._ Historia hunches her shoulders. "But they—"

"Are pirates," her father says. His hand strolls to clasp her shoulder. She gasps in pain.

He won't pardon them, she knows. At least Hitch, Marlowe, Jean, Annie, and Marco will be here soon.

 _But can I really do it?_ Historia wonders as her father apologizes for forgetting her injury, ushering her around, showing her off as if he's actually proud of her, not ashamed. _Maybe—maybe—_ She grapples for ideas, alternatives.

When he finally releases her to meet with another councilor, Historia leans back against the stone wall, trying to force air into her lungs, trying to quell her quaking nerves.

"So," says a slimy voice. Historia jumps. "Relax. I'm not going to kill the kingdom's only living princess."

"Y-you almost did before," Historia stammers. It's almost like something Ymir might have said.

Kenny shrugs, puffing on a cigar. "Aren't you wondering why he didn't come after you? Didn't send out a search party, didn't—"

"Because he thought it was too dangerous," Historia shoots back, know it's a lie and clinging to it because she knows, within seconds, the thread of hope will burn away to ash.

 _He's an ineffectual king._

Kenny raises his eyebrows. "Clearly your time on the high seas didn't teach you enough about that man you call a father. Has he ever let you call him that, before today when he so desperately needs an heir?"

* * *

Eren cracks his eyes open, head throbbing. He's been locked in this tiny, windowless cabin and its stale air for how many days now? Three? Five? They took his map…

The only person he's seen during that time is Ymir, also locked in this cabin with him, and some horrible, random Marlayan who drops biscuits and water off twice a day. Eren refused to eat at first.

"So you're just going to starve?" Ymir demanded in exasperation. He said nothing, just rolled over and curled up. Within a day he started eating. He needs strength to escape.

"You feeling okay?" Ymir asks, pacing the tiny cabin. She can hardly take three paces before smacking into a wall, and only one step from the bunks to the wall.

 _Damn them for having a mattress._ Eren scowls as he sits up. "Ymir, we're on a goddamn Marlayan ship."

"I'm aware."

"Are you working with them?"

"Would they have locked me in here if I was?"

"You chose to go," Eren states.

Ymir turns around and faces him. "So Christa— _Historia_ —could get away." She says the strange name as if it's sacred.

"Would they have taken her?"

"Maybe. Maybe I even wanted them to, in a way." Ymir blinks back bitter tears. "I'm a horrible person like that. But she's not. You know what kind of person she is. She wants to fight."

"Those traitors," Eren growls, clenching his fists. "They—"

As if on cue, the door swings open and Reiner strides in, followed by Bertolt.

"You _assholes_!" Eren erupts, lunging at them. He socks Bertolt in the nose.

"Stop it!" Reiner shouts, pulling Eren off of Bertolt and struggling to restrain him. "I said, stop!"

"You may have captured me," Eren snarls. "But I swear to God I'm going to fight you every step of the—" He bites Reiner's arm. Reiner howls.

Ymir cackles.

"Can you at least hear us out?" shouts Reiner.

 _No_. But Eren stops. Armin's face, Mikasa's face swims in his mind. "You were—"

"It can't hurt, Eren," Ymir says.

"Why," Eren breathes. "Would I be interested in anything you have to say? You've proven yourselves to be lying, manipulative—you were willing to kill so many innocent people! How many have you already killed, huh? How many?" He's shouting, close to tears. If any of those cannons had struck Mikasa…

"Too many!" Reiner shouts, clutching his skull. Bertolt covers his face.

"They told me they were there when Shiganshina was attacked. Presumably on a Marlay ship," Ymir says matter-of-factly. Her eyes glint with the chaos she's causing.

Eren aims his fist at Reiner's nose this time. The larger boy catches his wrist, struggling to keep his own face in tact. "So your pity—"

"We meant it!" Bertolt cries. "We felt—sorry—we never wanted anyone to die—"

"Oh, that's rich," Eren snorts. He could spit in both their faces, the scum—

"We knew we'd have to, but they were just numbers," Bertolt chokes out. "Not people, not yet—but the more time we spent in Eldia—"

Eren yanks his fist from Reiner's grasp. "They weren't just numbers to me! That was my _mother_!"

"And what are the Marlay to you, Eren?" Ymir asks as she leans against the hull, arms crossed.

"Monsters. Not human." _No human being would—_

"And what are the Eldians to you, Bertolt?" Ymir questions.

"Monsters," Bertolt chokes out. "Monsters that we—we might be able to defeat within ourselves—even though we were born with our ancestors' guilt, if we helped the Marlay, we could—we—"

"Congratulations on becoming the very monsters you sought to avoid becoming," Eren says.

A shudder rolls through both Bertolt and Reiner as his words register. More thoughts—the memory of three human traffickers—claw at Eren's mind, but he pushes them away.

"We can't be forgiven," Bertolt chokes out.

"No, you can't," Eren agrees.

"Eren, I—" Reiner starts, but stops. He clamps his hand over his mouth.

"You've lost it, haven't you?" Ymir taunts.

"Shut up." Reiner's face blooms purple.

"No. I probably only have a few weeks left to live, or however long it'll take us to get to the island and then back to your stupid capital. I'm going to say what I want to say."

"We're not going to let you die!" Reiner shouts. "We can't—guarantee your safety—but we're going to try!"

Ymir flinches. Bertolt watches her, almost desperately. "But what will the Marlay think if they know that you've lost your mind? That half the time, you really do think you grew up in a small riverside town in Eldia?"

"What?" Eren turns to Reiner, and the shame lining his face— _it's true._

"He's going to be fine!" shouts Bertolt, scrambling in front of Reiner as if he can shield him from Ymir's words. "Stop it, Ymir. He'll be _fine." Because he has to be._ Bertolt doesn't need to say the last part. Eren can tell.

"Keep dreaming," Eren says quietly. "All you are is murderers. I'm glad you're breaking, because you hurt real people. Not just my mother, but Connie and Sasha and Christa and all those people in the crew—they liked you guys, and you seemed to like them, and all the while you were plotting to kill us all!"

"Not you," Reiner snaps.

Eren could kill him right now. His palms heat and twitch.

"I know!" Bertolt shouts, his face caving in. "I'm—I—we really do like you guys! All of them—we really cared—but we—" He covers his face, sobs wracking his chest. _"Somebody help us_. I'm begging, somebody—"

"We would have helped," Eren says in a harsh tone. "If you'd asked."

"Sometimes you can't blame people for not asking," Ymir says. "Not everyone grows up thinking people are good. Some special people can still believe that, even when there's so much evidence to the contrary. Like Historia. Most can't." She looks at Bertolt, as if she understands.

 _They could have killed Christa—Historia!_ Eren doesn't understand how Ymir can act like this, like she doesn't hate Reiner or Bertolt.

"You don't fit in anywhere, do you?" Ymir asks. "The Marlay won't have you, and despite what you've been told, they never will and you know it—even if you both manage to stay sane. Eldia will never have you, and even if you ask for help, they wouldn't have."

"Erwin would have," Eren says defiantly.

"We don't want to hurt people," Bertolt insists. This is probably the most Eren's ever heard him talk. "We—there's not turning back now. It's too late."

Reiner presses his face against the wall, as if unable to look at them. His teacher, his protector, his jovial friend who gave him and Armin alcohol for the first time and taught them a fun game to play with the substance. A murderer who knew what he did was wrong, because it's broken his mind.

 _Good_ , Eren thinks viciously.

 _Do you really mean that?_

* * *

"You try anything, and I swear I will take you down," Jean hisses to Annie as the royal guard leads them through the palace. She blinks, letting him know she heard him. The cat purrs in her arms, although Pixis complained about letting her leave with it. Apparently he liked having it on his ship.

Marco's forehead still swells with a ghastly yellow and green bruise. The idea of Marco dying on that ship—needles of fear prick at Jean's fingers and toes.

 _But he didn't die. He's here. He's alive._

Damn, this place is rich. Jean still can't believe Christa was actually a secret princess the whole time. _And she signed up with pirates?_

 _So did you._

And he doesn't regret it. The looks of fear on Mikasa's, Armin's, and Connie's faces when they were hauled away, down towards the dungeons—he has to get them out. Somehow.

They're led into a spacious parlor, with red velvet sofas and matching drapes covering enormous windows. Christa— _Historia_ —paces back and forth.

"Leave us alone, please," Historia squeaks, and the guards nod. The oak doors shut with a heavy thud. "You're okay!"

Jean nods. Although he won't really be okay until Armin, Mikasa, Connie, and everyone else are free.

"What was the interrogation like?"

"Not—bad," Marco manages as Historia gestures for them to take a seat. "They wanted to know whether we'd joined—we told them we hadn't—"

"Ours was the same," Annie says, in her typical bored tone. But Jean sees her eyes flickering to each of their faces, as if she still can't believe they didn't turn her in.

"Father won't pardon them," Historia whispers. Jean hesitates, and then grabs a chocolate from a crystal bowl set on an oak table. _Might as well enjoy perks while we have them._

"Really? You're able to eat right now?" hisses Hitch.

"Hitch!" Marlowe scolds.

Jean shrugs. "So we're breaking them out."

"And then what?" Historia asks, wringing her hands. "We have to get Ymir, but how would they even get a ship?"

"Stealing one from the docks is hardly—"

"Another ship will be sent out after it, probably a fleet," Marlowe says gloomily. "And if we make it to the island, I'm not even sure what good it would do. We can't end the war no matter what we uncover. No one will want to listen to pirates, not when the king, however unpopular he is, is saying that—"

"What if there's a different ruler?" Jean asks.

Annie nods. Marco pales.

"What are you talking about?" Historia asks, voice shaking.

"I mean—" He lowers his voice. "You, Historia. We put you on the throne. Your father's in league with—well, who knows what kind of corruption. If you help end the war, your word is law. You can say—and it'll be _true_ —that Erwin and his crew are privateers for you."

"Privateers who stole a ship?" Marco questions. "It won't go over—"

"Unless there's someone you can buy a ship from," Annie says. "Jean, you must have contacts among merchants—"

"Merchants," breathes Historia.

"Yes," Jean says. "What about them?"

"Father—refused to help a merchant earlier. His name's Flegel—if I could—"

Marlowe's eyes widen. He leans forward, his fingers gripping his knees. "If you offer to reward him once you've taken the throne, he might lend you a ship."

"What if I can't do it?" Historia blurts out.

All of their mouths drop.

"What if I'm not cut out to be queen? I can't—"

"You have to," Jean says firmly.

"Don't think about that yet," Marco encourages, reaching out and grasping Historia's hand. "Just think about freeing our friends, who are going to be _hanged_ if we don't help. Jean and I will talk to Flegel. Hitch, Annie, and Marlowe will come up with a way to get in the prison. Let us help you."

Historia lifts her watering eyes and sniffs. "O-okay."

Jean reaches out and squeezes Marco's hand. _You're gambling with everything you have. If you wanted a chance to return to your old life, this is it._

He remembers what they've learned about the king.

 _I can't._

"We all have to help each other," Jean says in a low voice. "We're all scared. We're all having doubts, aren't we?" _Except maybe you, Marlowe._

Annie studies her boots. Hitch can't so much as blink, but Marco nods.

"We can do this. We _have_ to do this," Jean says. "Together."


	13. The Escape

"We're being followed," Marco whispers as he and Jean make their way through the narrow streets towards the docks. The odors of rotting fish, smoke, and salt water permeate the air. Raucous laughter rolls through the alleyways. A prostitute winks at him, and Marco's face flushes. He lowers his eyes.

Behind them, he spots the same two men ducking into a tavern. He doesn't buy it. They'll be back to following them in a few minutes.

"Damn it," Jean grunts. "Are they from the king?"

"Probably," Marco says, glancing over his shoulder again. A hollow ache fills his chest as he recalls all the times his parents gushed about the king, how honored his father had been to fight in the war for the king, and it was all for a lie.

 _And now I'm betraying the king…_

 _To help the princess,_ Marco reminds himself. _Historia_. He believes in her.

 _Why?_

"We've got to lose them," Jean states, grabbing Marco's shoulder and dragging him down an alley.

"Do you think that means they're onto Historia?"

Jean shakes his head, yanking Marco down a second side street. "Doesn't matter. Either way, we've got to convince Flegel or our necks are on the line as well."

 _I believe in her because I know her, and because I've got no other choice._

Everyone always told Marco he was a strong leader. He's not. But Historia can be. Jean already is.

Footsteps echo behind them. Marco picks up his pace, the damp air chilling the back of his neck. Jean's breaths come quick and sharp, as if he's trying to calm himself.

 _We can't fail_ , Marco thinks. _It's not an option. There won't be another chance._ He dives down another alley, close enough to the docks that he can hear the waves lapping and the groans of ropes swaying as they hold ships steady. He shoves Jean down behind a barnacle-encrusted barrel, huddling as they listen for more footsteps.

"I think we've lost them," Jean breathes at last, his hand clutching Marco's wrist, Marco's arms around his waist. "We should hurry."

Marco nods. Jean pulls him up with him, frowning as he again takes in the bruise marring half of Marco's face.

" _I'll kill them," Jean vowed when they finally got to talk and he heard what had happened, after being released from the fortress._

 _Marco's stomach clenched as he remembered the cruelty in Reiner's tone, as if Reiner had no memory of the night before, when they laughed together and played a card game, when Reiner teased him about Jean but in the kindest of ways._ Why? _"I just want to know what made them do this," he said._

" _They're Marlayan spies, regardless of their ethnicity."_

" _But what's making them want to do it? They were almost like friends—"_

" _They were faking it all along, weren't they?" Jean demanded, voice bitter._

" _Maybe," Marco admitted, his head throbbing. "But I want to talk to them first." And talk to the Marlay, because Marco's beginning to suspect that the way out of this war isn't through more bloodshed._ What's their point of view?

Throughout his life, Marco's always believed in people's goodness. He needs to keep believing in it, even with their betrayal, because the idea of not believing in that—the thought leaves him feeling scalded and raw.

"Let's go," Jean says quietly, and they dart down the street, Marco's heart thumping. They need this deal to work out.

And there's no one Marco would rather have handling the negotiations than Jean. As selfish and ambitious as Jean can be, he's also got compassion in droves, and enough sense to be able to walk this rickety negotiation and strike a deal.

"There he is," Marco says, stopping. A short, pudgy man climbs into a small boat, preparing to row back out to his frigate.

"Hello sir," Jean calls across the dock. His boots pound the woods. Marco jogs after them.

"Who're you?"

"Name's Jean Kirchstein. I'm a merchant, and I have a deal to offer you." Jean looks over his shoulder, gulping. Marco gives him a nod.

 _You can do this._

Maybe he isn't letting down his parents and everyone else who told him to rise up, be a leader. Jean needs the support. _Maybe that's just as important._

* * *

"Really, Hitch?" Marlowe grumbles as they head towards the fortress, the stars twinkling above them. His temples throb. They better be successful.

"It'll work and you know it," Hitch retorts, unbuttoning the top of her dress, since they weren't given their uniforms back right away. Marlowe shifts his gaze away from her. She sighs as if annoyed. "We don't have time for any other plan. And I don't mind."

"Are you _sure_ you don't mind, though?" Marlowe blurts out. A chicken clucks as it scuttles across the cobblestones in front of them. "You weren't exactly receptive to—"

"To what, Boris mocking me as if implying I didn't belong?" Hitch snaps, tossing her sandy brown waves. "It doesn't matter whether I mind it or not. I've got this reputation, we've got to get their uniforms. It works out." She tosses him a scathing look. "Are you jealous?" A hint of laughter ripples through her tone.

Marlowe's jaw drops. "Of course not! I just—I want you to—to—"

"You are, aren't you," Hitch teases as she grabs his shoulder.

Marlowe jerks away.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Marlowe." Hitch sighs. "Look, I'm the one who sent a message to the navy in the first place. Granted it kept most of us alive in the end, but it's also the reason they're in prison. Give me a chance to redeem myself, all right? Is _that_ more your language?"

Anger flares. _Why are you like this?_ Marlowe glares at her. "What does it matter what I think? You're going to do what you're going to do, no matter what."

Hitch kicks a pebble. It tumbles in front of them. "You were disappointed in me for sending that message."

Marlowe falls silent. Her shoulders hunch. "Hitch—"

"What, will you think even less of me for pretending to seduce these soldiers?" Hitch mocks. "How exactly do you want us to get the others access, then? Asking politely? Dueling? I'm not bad, but they're likely better than both of us, and you know it."

" _No_ , Hitch!" Heat storms Marlowe's face. _There is no narrow road here, is there?_ _Only twisted ones._ "I just—I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

Hitch frowns, turning to face him. She stands on tiptoe, her breath hot against his chin. "I won't. You hide behind that bale of hay."

And then she's flouncing off, leaving Marlowe standing there rubbing his chin in shock. _What just happened?_

He scrambles over to the hay and crouches down. It reeks of mold. Marlowe pities the horses that have to eat it.

A feminine laugh floats through the air. Marlowe peers over the top of the haystack to see Hitch slinging an arm over one of the soldier's shoulders. She pecks him on the cheek.

Marlowe's stomach prickles. _What is wrong with me?_

Hitch thrusts a dark bottle of wine, given to her by Historia, into the soldier's hands. "From the princess herself, as thanks for rescuing her!" Hitch says, and Marlowe can hear it all. _Keep your voice down, Hitch!_

He remembers when he received his assignment. _"You're working with Annie Leonhart and Hitch Dreyse."_

 _The boy behind him in line snorted. Marlowe turned around in confusion._

" _Have fun with them," he told him._

" _You know them?"_

" _Not well, but Leonhart's a sullen bitch and Dreyse only got into the military by sleeping with officers."_

" _And where's your proof?" demanded a small-boned girl with a pointed face and sandy hair._

Marlowe doesn't know whether or not it's true, but he's never seen anything but exemplary service from Hitch—well, and a bit of laziness. And he doesn't care if it's true or a lie—either way, Boris has no right talking about it. Although if Hitch gets caught…

 _She can't get caught._ Marlowe tenses.

A laugh, and then a thud. Marlowe peers over the hay. Hitch hoists one of the men up over her shoulder. He's so drunk he's stumbling. "We won't be long!" she calls the other man, a bearded fellow twice their age who grabs the wine bottle.

"Good, because I'll take longer," he slurs.

Marlowe cringes. True to her word, after ducking in a darkened alcove where Marlowe knows there's a closet, Hitch returns within five minutes. Her hair looks mussed, but there's no sign of the other soldier.

"You weren't kiddin'," says the bearded man, rising. He towers over Hitch. "Where's he at?"

"Went to relieve himself," Hitch coos, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her eyes flit over to the haystack, and the moment she sashays out of sight with the guard, Marlowe scrambles out, keeping in the shadows as he darts across the stone courtyard. He hears a yelp and wrenches open the closet door.

Both of the men lie on the ground, unconscious.

"Sleeping drought," Hitch offers. "I had to knock the second one on the head, though—he's bigger and it wasn't working as well."

"You're okay?" Marlowe asks. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No. Remiss about missing your opportunity to be chivalrous?" Hitch teases.

Marlowe frowns. _Of course not._

 _Right?_

Hitch blows out her breath. "Help me get these uniforms off them."

* * *

"Here." Hitch, dressed like one of the guards, shoves the keys at Annie as she escorts Historia into the fortress. "You have ten minutes."

"We'll be at the gate," mumbles Marlowe.

Annie keeps glancing at Historia, shocked the girl doesn't seem to have any concerns about being in her presence. She's not in uniform anymore, and Historia told her that she's here as Historia's friend, should anyone ask.

 _Friend_. Annie flinches and grasps the small ring she wears on her hand, twisting it and twisting it. It has a rough shard inside that scrapes her skin when she does it, makes her bleed, and sometimes it's the only relief Annie can find.

 _I shouldn't have friends._ She's never even so much as considered Reiner and Bertolt her friends, or Marcel, who died soon after they reached shore thanks to Ymir. _Street kid_ , Annie thought at the time.

They descend through the quiet prison, shoes clacking against the stone. A chill shivers its way down Annie's spine as they take the stairs. She holds the lantern aloft, a single candle burning and lighting their way.

Historia looks tearful. She's betraying her father. Like Annie.

 _Promise me…_

 _If I came back as an Eldian, would you still want me to return?_

Her ribs ache with the memory of where he kicked her, even though the bruise healed years ago— _he just wanted me to survive_ , Annie tells herself again and again as she twists her ring faster and faster. A bead of blood wriggles out and trickles down her finger to her palm.

In the light, she sees Armin staring at her. His clothes are dirty and stained, his hair bedraggled, and a bruise blotches under his eye. _Did they hit him?_ Rage surges. Annie's fists tremble.

"Give me that." Historia grabs the keys, rushing over to the first cell and unlocking it. Armin, Mikasa, Connie, and Sasha all leap out of it.

"What are you doing?" gasps Oruo.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Annie retorts as Armin gapes at her. "Come quickly and come quietly, if you don't want to swing from a rope."

"We're rescuing Eren and Ymir," Historia states as she inserts the key into another cell. "Can he walk, Nanaba?"

"I can," Mike groans. "I think."

"You came for us," Armin says to Annie in amazement.

"Thank you," Mikasa says quietly. Levi emerges from his cell, looking furious.

"Where's Captain Erwin?" Annie asks, ignoring the way he looks at her. _No matter what, I'll just be a traitor to him._ Her stomach feels cold.

"They kept him in a lower level, away from us all," Hange reports. "I—"

"I'll get him," Historia states, straightening.

"No," Annie counters. "I will. If someone comes—"

"They won't harm me."

"They won't harm me, either, _or_ capture me."

Historia hesitates as she frees Petra and Nanaba. "I need you to meet up with Marlowe and Hitch and get to Flegel's ship."

 _If Jean and Marco have succeeded._ Which Annie's not too certain of, considering the fact that life hasn't exact rewarded her for optimism.

"Hitch could take one group, and then Marlowe another, and then you a third," Armin says. "While we wait for Historia and Erwin."

"And me," Levi says.

"Really?" Hange demands.

"I'm not leaving him," Levi vows, curling a fist.

"Fine," Historia says, her voice shaking. "Annie—" Her eyes plead.

 _Friend._ The word echoes in Annie's skull. She nods.

Historia and Levi dash off, down the corridor towards the other flight of stairs. Annie realizes they're all looking at her. Armin gives her a small nod.

 _Stop it!_ Annie scowls. "Follow me." She turns and rushes up the stairs. If only she had some sort of weapon…

"What happened to your hand?" Armin hisses as he hurries behind her.

"Nothing." Annie wipes the blood away.

"Annie!"

She jumps. Hitch appears, eyes wide and musket ready. Annie launches into their plan, and Marlowe's already nodding.

A third of the crew vanishes outside, and Annie's left to try and quell her trembling. _This is it. We're going to fight the Marlayans_. _We're going to fight_ _Zeke._

 _If we get out of here alive._

Annie still can't bring herself to look Mikasa in the eyes.

* * *

"Erwin!" Levi hisses, trying to push Hange's determined frown from his mind. She's worried.

A clank. Erwin rises in his cell, his wrist chained to the bars. "Levi! Chris— _Historia?"_

"I'm helped you escape," pants Historia, fumbling with the keys. "And then we're going after Eren and Ymir." She unlocks the cell. "You're going to help us rescue them, right?"

Erwin nods.

"Oh, you're helping them escape, are you?"

Levi freezes at _that_ voice. Historia struggles to match up a key with the chain keeping Erwin in place. " _You_."

"Nice to see you again, nephew." Kenny steps into the moonlight streaming in from a narrow rectangular window. A sword gleams. _Mikasa's sword._

"You know who that belongs to," Levi says, stepping in front of Erwin and Historia as the girl still struggles to find the keys. _Hurry up, you brat!_

"Me," Kenny states, holding it up. The silver blinks as he twirls it around.

"No," Levi says. "Mikasa Ackerman."

Kenny starts, furrowing his brow.

"We have a long lost cousin, it seems," Levi continues, his heart hammering in his chest. _How much longer are you going to need, Historia? And how can you ever hope to rule a country if you can't figure out how to unlock a goddamn chain?_

Kenny just stares at him, and Levi remembers the day Kenny came to take him away. His mother had been dead for over a day, and Levi was hungry and scared. _She's dead. Soon I will be, too._

And then Kenny came and took Levi away, made him watch as he killed people but Levi cared little, because he wasn't alone. And then Kenny left him, and for all these years Levi's wondered why.

And now that he's standing right here, Levi doesn't know how to ask him.

"None of those keys are going to work, girl," Kenny says, ignoring Levi.

Levi turns to see Historia blanching and Erwin glowering.

"Because you'll need this one," Kenny adds, drawing out a small brass key. It jangles as he swings it with his free hand.

"Then hand it over," Levi orders.

"I'm the one with the sword."

 _How did you come here without any weapons?_ Levi wants to snarl at Historia. But now is not the time. "Our friends—are they walking into a trap?"

Kenny hesitates. "Not yet. They might escape, but you won't."

"I'm your princess," Historia tries. "I order you to—"

"Nice try, sweetheart, but you've been a princess for only a few hours."

"No," Historia counters. "I've been one my entire life. I've only been acknowledged as one for a few hours."

 _Huh._ Levi's impressed.

"Right." Kenny rubs the back of his neck. Historia flinches.

"How long have you been working for the king?" Levi asks. Erwin's being uncharacteristically quiet.

"I worked for Uri Reiss for years," Kenny snaps, his eyes darting to the ground. "It's hard to believe he and Rod are remotely related."

Historia bristles.

Kenny snorts. "You can't possibly be offended, can you? You think him worth betraying, so—"

"No, I don't," Historia says, her voice trembling. "It's just that I think my friends worth saving."

Kenny's jaw drops.

"He won't understand," Levi says. "He's only seen lives as worth taking. That's why it doesn't bother him that his liege is slaughtering thousands of people needlessly in this endless war, but it does bother him that he isn't the one killing them all. Though, I have to say, Kenny, I'd think you'd be bored of serving the law for so long."

Kenny snorts, and that's when Levi lunges, throwing himself at his uncle first-first. The key flies through the air. "Get it—" he hisses to Historia.

"Levi!" shouts Erwin as Kenny's boot slams into Levi's kneecap— _shit_ —

The sword glints, and Levi expects it to slice down, but nothing happens. Kenny's still struggling, his hands clamping around Levi's throat. They roll over the stones, Levi jamming his throbbing knee into Kenny's soft stomach. The stones dig into Levi's shoulders, cold.

Something clashes, and then a hand descends, ripping Kenny off Levi. But Kenny jerks his elbow back, shattering Erwin's nose.

Kenny grabs Levi's skull as Historia raises the sword.

A gun fires.

Kenny falls onto Levi. Something warm slides down Levi's sides, pools under him. He shoves Kenny off.

The door slams shut as another bullet tears through it. Historia shrieks, leaping away.

"We have to go!" Erwin bellows, jerking his thumb towards the other set of stairs. Which will take them to an exit away from the docks, assuming the fortress hasn't changed since Levi worked as a smuggler. But the other corridor is crawling with soldiers.

Kenny struggles to his feet, clutching his side. Blood streams through his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

Levi turns and flies after Erwin and Historia, charging up the stairs. "Give me the sword!"

Historia thrusts it at him, almost taking off Levi's fingers. He wriggles in front of them, sword raised. He's not letting anyone shoot or hang Erwin on his watch.

Because Erwin wanted to take him in, believed in his potential not to harm, but to use those skills for good. He gave Levi the choices no one else ever had.

"Through here!" Levi pushes open a small, round door to reveal an empty office. Erwin immediately bars the door as Levi examines the window. It's on the ground floor, but the footfalls of dozens of boots echo on the cobblestones. "We'll pretend we're kidnapping her," he suggests. "They'll have to let us go.

"No," Historia says. "I'm going to be queen. You're my privateers."

"Oh, we are, are we?" Erwin sounds amused. He raises an eyebrow and smirks at Levi.

"No apologies, and no kidnapping," Historia says, voice shaking.

The footsteps quiet outside. Levi grasps a chair, hoisting it on his shoulders. "This is the best chance we've got." _We run for it, and we probably die._

Erwin nods, looking as if he's thinking.

Levi doesn't have time to waste to inquire. He smashes the window, glass showering down on the all, pricking his cheeks. He drags himself out first. The low murmurs of soldiers talking reverberates around him, but no one's noticed him yet. He pulls Erwin out, and then Historia.

They barely stand up before they here a guttural cry. " _There they are!"_

"Go!" Levi barks. He veers down an alleyway, Historia and Erwin on his heels. Clouds blot out the moonlight. An arrow streaks by his head, and gunfire peppers the night. His shoulder burns—

"Erwin!" cries out a voice. "Erwin, surrender now and you won't be harmed!"

"Nile," Erwin grinds out. He doesn't so much as turn around.

"Run faster, you piece of shit," a voice drawls.

Levi practically skids to a stop as Kenny steps out from behind a pub, a maniacal grin on his face. Blood still steams down his side, and he's panting, pale as death.

"You're right; I am tired of the law." Kenny takes a step forward, leg trembling. "An' I'm tired of cowards." Kenny loads his musket, and Levi swings his sword.

And stops, because Kenny's aiming the musket not at them, but at the soldiers chasing them. "I may be special," Kenny says. "But it won't take long."

"What?" Levi gapes.

"Get the hell out of here, stupid nephew."

Erwin grabs Levi and drags him on. D _on't look back—there's no point_ —The docks can't be far now. Blood runs warm and sticky down his arm. His lungs ache. His throat stings.

Gunfire erupts behind him, and he doesn't bother to turn around.

* * *

"Life the anchor!" Erwin bellows.

Mikasa's heart still pounds. Any second now, one of the other ships will surely notice that Flegel's has been taken over—stolen, they'll assume, although Jean and Marco insist he was accommodating.

" _My father died in the war," he said._

Hers didn't. They died because of the same cause, though: someone else's greed, and selfishness.

"I think this belongs to you." Levi's voice interrupts her as he holds out a sword. Despite the clear start to the night, a light rain drizzles down upon them now.

"Thank you," Mikasa says, taking it. She squeezes the hilt in her palm, an ache in her chest as she remembers the time someone showed her that cruelty didn't rule out beauty.

 _I'm coming, Eren._


	14. The Brother

"We have to save her," Reiner protests, his eyes darting to Bertolt, who stands mute in a corner, his chin tipped down and his eyes glued to the deck. Times like these, with Zeke looking at them like they're a pair of filthy rats he'd like to toss overboard, Reiner wishes Bertolt would actually speak up, help him out. But Bertolt's always chosen silence, even though Reiner knows he's terrified about what might happen to Annie.

"And how do you suggest doing that?" Zeke asks, drumming his fingers against the map spread on the table in front of him. "We have other priorities."

"We can't leave her at their mercy," Reiner tries again.

"Annie knew the risks when she took on this mission. As did the both of you."

Reiner swallows. It's not a lie.

But Reiner was only six.

"I meant what I said earlier, Reiner," Zeke says, his voice slippery, dangerous. He moves closer, clapping his hand down on Reiner's shoulder. "If you want to challenge me again, feel free. But if you lose, you walk the plank."

"I don't want to challenge you," Reiner says quickly, meeting Zeke's eyes. The man nods, although he retains his smirk, as he knows that Reiner would love to if there was any hope of winning.

Last night, Zeke challenged him to a game of dice, purportedly because he was sick of Reiner whining about rescuing Annie. Reiner remembers the sick pressure he felt building up, hot and rippling, in his abdomen, how he couldn't look at Bertolt, because really it was for his sake Reiner was playing.

And when he lost, how Reiner wanted to cry, how there was a faint burn in his eyes but nothing wet, and Zeke punched him in the gut and he crumpled to the deck like the failure he is.

" _Don't overestimate yourself," Zeke told him quietly._

 _He thinks I'm planning a mutiny,_ Reiner knows. But he's not. He just wants to save Annie, so Bertolt can be happy and he can sleep at night knowing that one person is happy because of him, even if thousands upon thousands loathe him.

Of course, at other moments, Bertolt says Reiner doesn't show any sign of caring about Annie. When he's not himself. Reiner swallows. _I don't want to be like that._

"Thank you for trying," Bertolt says softly as they leave Zeke's cabin. "But you really should take care of yourself—"

"If you'd take care of _yourself_ I wouldn't have to," Reiner grouses.

Bertolt blinks.

"Oh, come off it, Bertl," Reiner says in annoyance. "You're the one in love with Annie—"

Bertolt's face flushes to the color of the sky at sunset. "No, Reiner, I—"

"So you should be the one trying to save her," Reiner continues.

Bertolt hangs his head.

"She'll forgive you," Reiner assures him, reaching out and grasping Bertolt's shoulder. Dammit, Bertolt is so close to him right now. Reiner's heart picks up pace. He hates himself. He's nothing he should be. But he'll save Annie if it's the last thing he does, because Bertolt needs a happy ending. He's been Reiner's best friend for years.

Bertolt was always the most successful, at least in their initial trainings, but he would cry every night and Reiner was the only one who didn't belittle him for it. Bertolt would follow Reiner around like a shadow after Reiner told the other kids, including Marcel, to leave Bertolt alone, and then eventually Marcel came around, too.

 _So much has changed, and not that much at the same time._

Bertolt manages a small smile.

Reiner remembers being on that ship to Fort Shiganshina with Bertolt, when he realized that he would die if Bertolt were to die. He couldn't even fathom the thought of any harm coming to his friend, the one who managed to make Reiner laugh whenever he hated himself, the one who was always willing to help people, who showed compassion to a gang of street kids who ambushed them once for being Eldian. Unaware they were dealing with Marleyan trained Eldians, the kids found themselves defeated, and Bertolt called Reiner and Marcel off. _"Stop," he insisted as the kids cried. "It's enough."_

"You two," says Zeke, interrupting them. Reiner almost jumps. "Go and question the prisoners again."

"Again?" Reiner demands.

"About what?" Bertolt says quickly.

Zeke's eyes narrow as they focus on Reiner. "Take them some hot tea, and find out more about Jaeger's family. I need to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Reiner questions.

"Enough questions from you, Braun." Zeke's tone holds a subtle threat. Reiner swallows.

"And Ymir?" Bertolt asks.

"You can ask her whatever you want about her past, what she knows. She's irrelevant, though. We don't need her." Zeke shrugs.

 _You're going to kill her,_ Reiner realizes. He pictures Christa again, and his stomach cramps. He can't imagine what Ymir's death would do to her. _And it'd be our fault._

"We have to do this, Reiner," Bertolt says as they climb down the ladder and enter the tiny kitchen. It reeks of last night's stew, encrusted in splatters from an evident spill.

"I know," Reiner answers. "But if we can… if Ymir can help us—I don't think Christa—"

Bertolt nods, his jaw trembling. "What can we even do?" he asks, as if defeated.

For the first time, Reiner's minor irritation with his best friend flares as he sets some water to boil. "Really, Bertolt?"

Bertolt jumps, eyes wide.

"We can try, can't we? Unless you want—"

"Of course I don't!" Bertolt cries out. "I just—don't know what to do!" His breaths come ragged, the skin around his eyes creases and droplets of sweat bead his forehead.

 _He's terrified,_ Reiner realizes.

And as he brews the tea, he can't shake off the feeling that looking into Bertolt's eyes was like looking into a mirror.

* * *

"Are they gaining?" Jean demands as Erwin aims a spyglass at the small dots blotting the horizon. Armin's pulse beats in his throat. They managed to make their escape under the cover of darkness, but everyone knows that the king will surely send the might of the navy after them. _And if we're caught… it's not just my life, or Mikasa's, or Annie's. It's Eren's too, and Ymir's._

"No," Erwin says, lowering the spyglass. "We have the advantage of the wind. And we're sailing into a storm."

"A storm?" Historia echoes, the wind whipping her hair around her face as blond strands wiggle free of the plait she tried to contain it in.

"Not a dangerous one," Erwin clarifies, his hand squeezing Historia's shoulder. He gives her a nod of thanks.

 _We all would have died without you,_ Armin thinks as he watches Historia flush. She's not comfortable with this yet, but she needs to be. She's going to be queen. She may not have the physical strength of someone like Mikasa or the intelligence of Annie, but she's using her kindness to save them.

Armin gulps as he remembers all the times he's thought that forgetting one's humanity makes you stronger.

"Levi?" Historia asks.

Armin turns to see Levi approaching them. Blood still stains his clothes, from whatever happened with that dastardly uncle of his. Levi ignores her and heads to the rail, where he leans over, wind slapping his face.

"Levi?" Erwin tries.

Levi doesn't respond.

"Thank you," Erwin says, and Levi almost smiles.

Hange climbs out of the hatch next, her hair wild and tangled. She heads over to Levi and stands next to him, saying nothing.

"Stop being so quiet," Levi snaps.

Jean nudges Armin and snickers. Armin can't help but grin. The sea takes on a gray color, foaming and churning, and sure enough, the dot that was the navy ship fades into the blur that is the horizon.

"Fine then," Hange says. "Let's talk about that one time I had to cut off someone's leg."

"I've done that too," Levi counters. "For less benevolent purposes."

"It's kind of exciting, don't you think?" Hange muses. "Seeing what's beneath our flesh—"

Jean's mouth hangs open. "That is repulsive."

"Jean!" reprimands Historia.

"Armin?" Jean asks.

"Before Armin gets involved in this, I need him to do something," Historia says, swallowing. She's clearly not comfortable with giving anything that might sound like an order.

"Yes, your highness," Armin quips. Jean laughs.

Historia folds her hands behind her back. "Go get Annie from the brig, and take her to the captain's cabin. We need to discuss strategy. Jean, if you can get Mikasa, Marco, Sasha and Connie too, that'd be appreciated."

"Hitch and Marlowe?" Jean questions.

"Them too," Historia amends.

"Doesn't make sense to me that Annie's locked up while Hitch is free," Jean grumbles as they climb down the ladder. Flegel clearly kept his ship clean, much to Levi's pleasure.

"I think there's a difference between selling us out to the navy and to the Marlay," Armin responds.

"Is there? We might be better off captured by the Marlay at this point," Jean retorts.

Armin swallows. "I don't know." He doesn't want Annie locked up, either, if he's honest.

He misses her.

"I'll wake them up now," Jean says as Armin climbs down another ladder. "Good luck with your lady love."

Armin's face flames. "Jean!"

"Armin, it's not exactly subtle on her end." Jean winks and vanishes.

Armin groans, pressing his face against the smooth wood of the ladder, far more polished than the rough wood of Jean's ship and the _No Regrets._

Sasha's high-pitched chortle and Connie's rumble of a laugh shake him out of his lethargy. Armin pries himself away and climbs down. _What would Mikasa think? What would_ Eren _think?_

 _She saved our lives, twice. If she's helping us now, she's a valuable asset._

"Am I getting parole?" Annie's dry voice cuts through the darkness. Armin fumbles to light a lantern before he enters the brig.

"Historia wants to talk about strategies," Armin reports.

"Because she doesn't know any," Annie snorts. Her hair's mussed, and her blue eyes might be as sharp as ever, but they're still sad.

"I'm sorry they locked you up," Armin whispers as he unlocks the brig.

"You're not. You're a pragmatic man above all else, Armin." She stands back as he unlocks the cell.

Armin cringes. _Is that what I want to be?_

"After I help you save Eren and Ymir," Annie says, making no move to leave her cell. "What will you do? Execute me? Imprison me in the fortress?"

"You helped save us—Historia will—"

"I can't guarantee success," Annie blurts out, twisting a ring around her finger again and again. "I'm going to try, but I can't—Zeke's shrewd, and you've already lost one battle to him."

"You're scared," Armin says

Annie laughs. "Say I don't succeed, Armin. Say I fail, or remember something about the ship wrong, and Eren and Ymir both die. Will you all cut my throat and roll my corpse overboard?"

Armin flinches. "Annie—"

"And what if I do succeed, what use do I still have?" Anxiety tightens around Annie's voice. "I—"

Armin can't stand it. The self-loathing bubbling beneath the surface is a little too familiar for Armin, and he wants to duck and hide, but instead he reaches out and grasps her shoulders. "Annie, stop!" _Don't do this to me. Don't do this to_ yourself.

"Why do you even care?" she screams at him, struggling.

"You betrayed _me!"_ Armin shouts back at her. "You hurt people—you hurt me too! Even if you didn't wound me physically—you hurt—"

"So you care because I betrayed you?" Annie demands, and the absurdity of his response hits Armin in the stomach. Annie almost laughs, and Armin can only shake his head.

He lets go of her and slumps against the bars. He remembers being locked up. He hated it.

"I'm not a good person, Armin," Annie says with finality.

"You can be," Armin ekes out. "To me."

"If I succeed?"

"If you _try_." Armin meets her eyes.

"You're too good, you know," Annie says. "I know you're manipulating me."

He gulps.

She slips out of the brig, and for a moment Armin fears she'll lock him in there. Instead, she raises her eyebrows. "Aren't you coming?"

He stumbles out. "Annie? If all you want is to be a good person, why can't you?"

Her eyes fill with tears. She turns and rushes towards the ladder.

* * *

"Oh, look who deigned to visit us, Eren," purrs Ymir. She slouches against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of her.

"That's not very ladylike," Reiner says as he shuts the door behind them. Eren flexes his back, which aches from staying huddled most of the time, worrying about where this ship is taking them, feeling like an abysmal failure for the fact that soon they'll take the map away from him and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Have I ever said or done anything to make you think I give a damn about being ladylike? Because if I have, I need to correct that right now," Ymir drawls.

Her presence is the one thing keeping Eren sane right now. He can't stand being confined. The walls close in around him, and the darkness scratches at his eyes. The light from the lantern Reiner holds is something he's been craving, and now that it's here, it burns.

"Tea?" Bertolt offers.

"What did you put in it?" Ymir teases.

"Nothing!" Bertolt exclaims. "We don't have sugar rations or—"

Eren takes the teacup and jerks it back. The liquid sloshes out, scalding his knuckles, but it's nothing compared to what it'll do to that traitor's face when he throws—

" _Eat it," Mikasa told him, shoving bread into his mouth. "Eat, and stay alive."_

Bertolt yelps in anticipation, hands flying up, but Eren halts his arm. He takes a sip of the tea. It's too bitter, but he drinks and Bertolt blinks, surprised.

Eren's eyes sting, but he gulps more tea. _Mikasa, I miss you._

 _I need you._ He can't let himself think about never seeing Mikasa or Armin again. How much he misses them is a tangible ache, throbbing in the spaces between his ribs.

"To what do we owe the honor?" Ymir quips as Bertolt and Reiner both settle down. "Captain order you to interrogate?"

Bertolt coughs.

"Well… yes," Reiner admits, unable to meet their gaze.

"Snap him back, Bertolt," Ymir says. "That's your job, right? He needs to focus on his mission. Right now he thinks we're friends."

"Huh?" Eren asks. The tea scalds his tongue.

"Reiner sometimes forgets who he is," Ymir says. "And thinks he's really a pirate, or he's really a Marlayan puppet warrior who thinks we're getting what we deserve, or—"

"I don't think that! It's a tragedy, but—"

"A necessary one?" Ymir mocks.

"Easy to say when it isn't _your_ life!" Eren erupts. "When you're not a person living in fear of—"

"We know fear of the Marlay far better than you do!" Reiner shouts.

"But you have freedom, don't you? More so than we Eldians do. You have the truth of the situation while our king keeps us trapped in ignorance!" Eren clenches his fists. Bertolt looks ashen.

"I understand, you know," Ymir says quietly. Bertolt glances at her. "When I escaped Marlay and came to Eldia, I was pissed off, too."

"So you're originally from Marlay?" Bertolt asks. "Reiner thought you were."

Eren scowls.

"Go and tell your captain that." Ymir finishes her tea and leans forward, a dark smile playing with her lips. "Won't that be the end? When they find out I'm an escaped Eldian?"

"How did you escape?" Eren asks. _Dammit, I should wait until later to ask this!_

"No way that's repeatable," Ymir says. "In multiple senses of the word. Not in present company, and not doable again."

The waves seem to be growing choppier. Eren's head knocks against the wood.

"Who are you?" Bertolt asks. "And where did you come from?"

"Does it matter?" Ymir asks. "I'm a girl who got a second shot at life, when she left… that place. And I've been determined not to waste it." Her voice trembles, and Eren thinks of Christa.

"The Marlay ruin everything," Eren says bitterly. "You're a plague—"

"We were all one kingdom once," Ymir interrupts. "And the Eldians oppressed the Marlayans, so now the Marlayans are doing the same to the Eldians within its borders. It's a cycle no one wants to break."

Eren glares at Reiner and Bertolt, both pressed against the wall and wearing identical frowns. _You cowards._

"The Fritzes are responsible for it all," Ymir continues, a lopsided smirk on her face. "If they hadn't been incompetent rulers and given the Eldians so much favor while underestimating the Marlay, maybe we wouldn't all be fighting today. But who knows?"

"You know an awful lot," Reiner says. "For a girl who grew up in an Eldian ghetto."

"I never said how I grew up."

Eren doesn't understand, and he isn't even sure he wants to.

"And you're not getting any more irrelevant information out of me," Ymir continues. "Ask him questions." She jerks her thumb towards Eren.

His heart lurches. _What the hell, Ymir_? "I have nothing to tell you."

"Eren, we don't want to harm you," Bertolt tries. "If the map can lead us to something that will end the war, well, that's what we all want, isn't it?"

"End the war by annihilating my people?"

Bertolt flinches.

"You think you're morally—"

"I don't think anything of the sort!" Bertolt cries out. "I just—need this to be _over!_ I need to end this!" He grips his short hair as if tearing the strands out of his skull. His mouth opens in a terrible grimace, as if he wants to scream but is too terrified to make a sound.

"I used to think there was no point in living too," Ymir says. "Especially when you're a murderer. I bear the guilt of thousands, too."

"What?" Eren yelps.

"I was never one of them, Eren, but I am a murderer." Ymir laughs, a hollow sound. "So are you, aren't you?"

The image of those kidnappers, the sounds of the horrible things they had planned for Mikasa, fills Eren's mind. _How does she know? "_ It's different. Three is hardly the entire—"

 _I wanted to save her._

 _I couldn't let them treat her like she wasn't even a human being._

 _She's a person, and she protects me._ Eren's fingers trace his bare throat.

A knock on the door reverberates. Bertolt jumps to his feet as someone shouts his name. "Hoover!"

"Y-yes?" Bertolt calls, wiping his eyes.

"We need you to help with moving—something."

"Coming!"

"I'll go," Reiner says quickly. "You can stay." His hand brushes Bertolt's shoulder. "You can do it."

Bertolt says nothing as Reiner slips out the door. He turns to Eren and Ymir, looking petrified, as if he hasn't a clue how to interrogate someone without Reiner's presence.

"Your boyfriend left you?" Ymir asks, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Why would you say that, Ymir?" Bertolt yelps.

Ymir's positively grinning now. "Because he told me on the _No Regrets_ that he likes women about as much as I like men. And he pays you a lot of attention."

Bertolt looks as if Ymir just threw tea in his face. His cheek fill with red and his mouth hangs open.

Eren doesn't understand. How can Reiner possibly have feelings for someone? He's a monster. He's less than human—he shouldn't love Bertolt. He shouldn't love anyone. But even Eren's noticed the way Reiner looks at Bertolt.

The door swings back open. "I asked for Hoover, not Braun!" barks a voice that sounds strangely familiar to Eren. His spine stiffens as a blond man with a scruffy bears and spectacles clomps into the room.

 _The Captain_. Eren glares at him. _You animal._

"Nice to meet you, Eren," the man continues, leaning against the door as Bertolt shuffles out. "I have to say, you look nothing like Father."

"What?" Eren demands. "How do you know—"

"Didn't he ever tell you that he grew up in an Eldian ghetto?" The Captain's lips curve into a diabolical smile. Ymir looks at Eren in alarm. "He's my father, too."


	15. The Storm

"You're lying!" Eren erupts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ymir blanche, pressing herself against the wall as if these revelations truly shock her, frighten her. And he sees that beast, that inhuman asshole, regarding with a calm expression. It's disgusting.

"Do I look as though I am, Eren?" Zeke rubs his chin.

 _Do I look…_ Eren could vomit. Zeke _looks_ like a blond version of Father. And judging from his tone, Zeke knows it.

 _It can't be…_

"We are both victims of him," Zeke tells Eren. "We were both manipulated by Grisha Jae—"

"Shut _up!"_ Eren screams. His fists curl, and he longs to throw himself at Zeke, tear that ugly goatee from his stupid chin. But he can't. He wouldn't win. If Mikasa were hear—

 _Losing's never stopped you in the past_. Flashes of all the bullies in Shiganshina invade his memories. Eren tenses.

"Don't even think about it," Zeke says with a sigh. "He enrolled me in the same program your friends—well, I guess they aren't your friends anymore—were in. Thought I could spy for them at seven years old, help him lead an Eldian rebellion."

"Shut up," Eren says again. _Move, dammit!_ Why are his muscles frozen? He can't even feel his legs.

"Ever since I heard about you, I wanted to save you," Zeke says, stepping forward.

"Are you fucking ignorant?" Eren shouts. "My mother _died_ , because of you!"

"I've lost my mother, too."

"How?" Eren demands. _Who was she? What was she like?_ Did Eren's mother even know Father was married before?

"She worked with my father on the rebellion. She was a descendant of the Fritzes."

Ymir shrinks again, as if she'd like to meld into the wall completely.

"They gave me up to the Marlay, and the Marlay offered protection, while they offered death. I saw it clearly."

Horror seeps through Eren's bones. "You turned them in?"

"What else could I have—"

"Whatever program they had you in only taught you how to be a treacherous leech!" Eren bellows. "You—Reiner—Bertolt—Annie—you're all brainwashed, pathetic cowards!"

"And Father didn't brainwash you? Tell me, Eren, did he give you that map? Explain what it was, or just tell you it was important?" Zeke chuckles. "I doubt he changed that much."

Eren's throat constricts. _This can't be happening_.

 _I have a family again, and my family is my_ enemy?

"So were you after me the whole time? To kidnap—"

"I only found out about you through Reiner and Bertolt—I want to _save_ you, Eren!" Zeke's lips twist.

"Well, you have a pretty messed up idea of saving, because I need saving from you!" Eren shouts. "You're a _hypocrite!_ And I will never embrace the man who—my mother is dead because of you!"

"Because of your father—"

"You made your own choices!" Eren screams.

"Fine," Zeke says stiffly. "Then you _will_ give me the map."

"What, your pawns aren't able to tell you where it is?" Eren snarls.

"The general direction of the island, yes," Zeke says calmly. "The specific spot on the island—that's what I need the map for."

"How far away are we?" Eren asks, backing up. The ship bucks, and he throws his arms out to regain balance.

Zeke takes a step forward. "About a week, depending on how far this storm blows us off course."

Eren glares at him.

"Hand it over," Zeke orders, holding out his palm.

"You'll have to take it, monster," Eren seethes. A rush of adrenaline buoys his mind. It's almost a relief when four cronies—not Reiner or Bertolt, he notes, but instead a grinning girl younger than Eren, a blond boy, a boy who looks like Hange, and a blond girl—charge in and try to hold Eren down as he punches and kicks, finally biting one of the boys on his salty arm as they pin him to the floor, digging through his pockets. "Go to hell! All of you!" he screams. One backhands him across the face. Eren tastes blood. It's bitter. His nose throbs—one of them's kneeling across him, the other's fingers rove through his pockets, finally entering the one over his ribcage. _No!_

"Got it," the grinning girl says triumphantly, holding the scroll high. Eren spits at her, and the blond boy kicks him in the ribs.

"Been wanting to slap that brat for days," grunts another sailor with hunched shoulders and a donkey face, appearing next to Zeke as the girl hands the map over to Zeke. Eren lies on the floor in a heap, his limbs suddenly like jelly. His cheek stings.

 _Why didn't I give it to Mikasa when I had the chance?_

"He'll come around," Zeke says as the door shuts behind him.

 _I won't. I'm not a coward like you are._

" _Please, Eren," Father said. "I'm sorry."_

 _Father, why?_ Eren grits his teeth. Ymir makes no move to get up, or even to ask if he's all right. _You trusted me… because_ _I'm not like Zeke! I'm not!_

 _Did you love him?_

Somehow Eren knows the answer is _yes_ , and the hurts worse than any of the bruises multiplying on his ribs. He wishes Mikasa were here, Armin—someone to talk to, to help him understand, help him accept this. _That monster is my brother. He can't be. My father—_

Eren cries against the deck, slamming his fist into it again and again, but without much force. _What would you do, Mikasa? You wouldn't have let them take the map, would you?_

Somehow Eren knows she won't judge him for it.

 _I won't fail you,_ he vows to himself as tears sting against the cut on his lip. _I won't let them hurt you, destroy you along with us other Eldians._

Because more than anything, right now, he just wants to see her again.

* * *

The storm sends the ship bucking, and the crew has to use ropes to drags themselves around. Mikasa watches as a rope slips from Jean's hands and he tumbles to the deck, skidding across the wood panels. Marco grasps his hand.

"Get below deck, and tie yourselves to whatever you can find!" Erwin bellows. An enormous black wave surges in the horizon, white cap glittering in malevolence.

Mikasa scrambles to obey. The ship twists as she climbs down the ladder, and Mikasa's barely able to hang on. Sasha shrieks as she rips off and crashes to the ground.

"Sasha!" Connie bellows, darting over to her, rope coiled around his arms.

"I'm okay," she squeaks out, tears running down her face.

"I'm going down to the brig," Armin tells Mikasa. "Annie shouldn't be alone." And he promptly vomits down the ladder.

"Armin, don't be an idiot," Mikasa snaps, help Sasha lash herself to one of the poles the hammocks swing from.

But he's already ducked down. " _Armin!"_

"He'll be fine," Jean says as he finishes tying Marco to the pole. The ropes dig into Mikasa's skin as she ties. Her sword's still at her side should she need it.

"What if we sink again?" Sasha whispers. Jean blows the lantern out, and Mikasa can't see anyone's face. _Armin, you better be okay!_

"We won't," Jean says. "I've been through worse storms, and Erwin's a far more competent captain than I ever was. It seems worse than it is, and he's doing everything right."

"Thanks, Jean," Marco says quietly.

"But what if—"

"Not helpful, Sasha," grinds out Marlowe. Mikasa hadn't even realized he was here.

"Fine," Sasha retorts, affronted. Her voice catches. "I'm a coward, anyways."

"Sure, because cowards stow away on pirate ships," Connie says sarcastically.

The ship jolts to the side. Mikasa strains against her ropes. Sasha cries out.

"The whole reason I left my village—" Sasha manages. "Is because I'm a coward—I wanted to run away instead of letting things change—"

"And I wanted esteem and wealth," Connie shoots back. "And now everyone in my village is _dead_."

"It's so wrong," Sasha says bleakly.

 _Everything is wrong,_ Mikasa thinks as her head snaps in the opposite direction. _Eren—I have to save him._

 _Even if he never loves me like I love him, he deserves happiness._

"Is Hitch here?" Marco asks.

"She was with Hange." Marlowe's tone sounds worried. "And Historia."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Mikasa says. Mostly because she needs Hitch to be, not for Hitch's sake, but because Mikasa needs everyone to be fine right now.

 _I'm afraid._

 _If you don't fight, you won't live._

Eren said that to her once. Mikasa clings to it, her eyes burning as the ship lurches forwards.

"You better kiss her and tell her you're really glad she's okay when this is all over," Connie pants.

"What?" Marlowe sounds incredulous. "What are you talking about?"

"You have to be kidding me," Jean says.

"Guys," warns Marco.

"Because you and Hitch are… you know," Sasha ekes out.

"No, I don't know what you mean."

"You're dating," Connie states.

"No, we aren't!" Marlowe sounds appalled.

"You basically are," Connie counters.

"We're not!"

"You basically are, and Mikasa, you and Eren _basically_ are too."

Mikasa's heart lifts. She owes Connie for this one.

"You're both just too blind to admit it, Marlowe, but you love each other," Connie continues. "You'd do practically anything for her, and yeah, you're pretty opposite in your personalities, but you like that about her and she likes that about you."

Marlowe's quiet.

"Mikasa, you should kiss Eren to welcome him back," Connie adds.

She flushes.

"Leave her alone," Marco groans.

It's not that Mikasa would mind. It's that she's not sure what Eren wants.

 _What do you want?_

 _Why don't you ask him?_

She's afraid. More than anything, she doesn't want to lose Eren, not in any way. That is one risk she's not sure she's ready to take.

* * *

"I had no idea," Bertolt says to Reiner in a hushed voice.

"Neither did I," Reiner admits. The rain still batters the window of the captain's cabin, but it's definitely weakening. Zeke was still on deck, tied to the helm, last Bertolt heard, but another sailor told them to wait for Zeke in his cabin, while a Marlayan sailor watched with his nose curling with disgust at Bertolt and Reiner's Eldian heritage.

Bertolt presses his knuckles against his lips. "I wonder how Eren's doing."

"Not well," Reiner says with a snort. "I can guarantee it." He squeezes his fists.

The door slams open, whacking the wood panels. Bertolt jumps to his feet as Zeke strides in, sopping wet and with his cheeks red from cold. He strips off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor, swearing loudly.

"We were told to wait here—" Reiner starts.

"Yes, I told Galliard to tell you," Zeke snarls. He stomps past Bertolt to grab his glasses, tethered to a shelf. His fingers fumble to untie the knots, and he cusses.

"Any damage?" Reiner asks.

"What, hopeful that you'll get to work shoring and mending sailcloth instead of talking to our prisoners?" Zeke snaps. He snatches a dry shirt, shrugging it on. Water sprays Bertolt's face and shoulders.

"I—"

"Not that you could get anything useful out of them," Zeke adds cuttingly. "I miss your warrior personality, Reiner. This one's useless."

Reiner stiffens. Bertolt feels as if he gulped a bucket of old seawater. His stomach stings and his throat feels parched.

Reiner's eyes slide to Bertolt, a silent question: _did you—_

"Before you even ask, no, Reiner, your subservient dog did not tell me. I can see it. You're two people. In one body."

Bertolt wants to clap his hands over his ears, scream at it to stop, stop, stop, hum the lullaby his mother used to sing to him, the one he sang to himself, but only in his mind, when he was first taken to serve the Marlay, anything to block this out. But he can't. He has to stand tall, feet planted, arms straight at his sides, a soldier, while their captain tears Reiner apart.

"I—"

"Don't offer an excuse, Braun. You did this to yourself. You know, of all the people I thought would be at risk of bonding with the enemy, I figured it would be Hoover. He's the weak one who would give anything just to have protection. Guess he was stronger than I thought."

Bertolt wants to vomit now. He studies the deck, a dark notch in the wood. He wishes he could disappear into it. He can almost visualize himself flying towards it, sinking out of sight.

Zeke swears again as he yanks off his sodden boots. He drops onto the bed, covered in a threadbare coverlet, a thin, moldy mattress.

"I am still dedicated to our cause, sir—"

"Which Reiner?" Zeke snorts. "You're pathetic. You're weak, and you're entirely Eldian—cowardly, afraid to face the truth, afraid to fight."

"I—"

"You've gone soft." Zeke laughs. "Although I should have known that from the beginning. You were always caring too much about your fellow trainees." He gets to his feet, lumbering over. He smells of salt and sweat. Bertolt can't breathe.

He punches Reiner in the gut, and Reiner tumbles to the deck.

"Get up," Zeke orders.

 _Stop,_ Bertolt wants to cry, sweat beading his forehead, running from his temples. _Please stop. Don't hurt him._

"I'll get the information you want," Reiner wheezes, getting to his knees. "I promise. No matter what I have to do—"

"There is no information I want!" Zeke erupts, his boot slamming into Reiner's ribs. "You're too late!"

He's not making any sense. Except that information isn't what he wants from Eren.

But then what do you want? From him? From Ymir?

 _Esteem, for the latter,_ Bertolt reckons. The Marlay might be able to get information out of here, about how she escaped, so they can prevent that ever happening again. And for his own brother—

Reiner grunts, and Bertolt remembers the first night they were in Eldia, when Reiner stole some bread for Bertolt and Annie. Annie took it but ignored him. Bertolt thanked him, and they huddled together because it was cold.

It felt so strange, being away from their Marlayan captains. Bertolt wondered what would happen if he went to the Eldians and told them the truth. But he wouldn't of course. The Marlay were counting on him. His family was counting on him. And he just wanted to go home, and if this was the only way, so be it.

"We can do it," Reiner assured him that night as they slept in a stable, the hay pricking Bertolt's ears. "Together."

Zeke is the oldest among the Eldians recruited by the Marlay, the oldest by a lot. He's legendary, even, alone in his achievements.

Zeke brings his fist against Reiner's face, and as Reiner barely manages to stay on his feet— _when did he get up?—_ Bertolt wants to scream _stop, leave him alone, he's my friend, don't hurt him! I need him!_

At any point Reiner could bring up Bertolt's own waverings, how he's scared, how Reiner pretty much had to do everything when they were in Eldia because Bertolt was too terrified about not going home to do anything that might jeopardize that, which meant he did nothing at all. Reiner accomplished their mission far more than Bertolt.

But Bertolt somehow knows that Reiner won't say a thing. He even gives Bertolt a small smile, blood running from his nose, as Zeke punches him again.

 _Stop. He's my friend. I need him!_

But it's as if ghosts have stolen his voice, and when he opens his mouth, he can't make a sound.

* * *

"The storm's given us an advantage," Annie overhears. She cracks her eyes open, neck aching and backside throbbing form the amount of times she fell against the deck before Armin arrived with rope to save her.

"How so?" Armin calls sleepily.

Nanaba appears, Mike behind her. Bandages still swathe his side, and his pallor's still paler than it should be. He sniffs the air and Annie scowls, trying to tell herself his injury isn't her fault.

It is, entirely.

Armin cuts himself free, and heads over to cut her free. Annie wishes she could grab the knife and saw off her own ropes, but she knows Nanaba and Mike would panic if she were to touch anything metal, sharp, and pointy.

 _You can't ever be a good person._ Annie glances at Armin, vindication sitting more uneven than she assumed it would.

Because he looks at her with determined blue eyes, the color of the sea when clouds cover most of the sun, and she knows he hasn't given up on her, won't until she makes him, and she's tempted more than she should be. Despair's a funny thing, mauling at her will to live.

"It didn't blow us that far off course, because we got the edge of it," Nanaba reports.

"That was the _edge_ of the storm?" Armin yelps.

"Well, it was a little more than the edge, but it seems to be moving west," Nanaba says. "Which means Zeke's ship might still be in it. We can close the gap."

"They'll have to stop for repairs," Annie says, rubbing her wrists. They ache for no apparent reason.

Armin's chin trembles.

"Zeke's a good captain, and the ship is strong. They're fine, I promise," Annie says to him. "Just have to fix some sails and the like."

He nods, swallowing.

"What is their main objective?" Nanaba questions. "Erwin wouldn't tell us—"

"Then I'm not sure we can," Armin says, brow creasing.

"I serve no one," Annie retorts. "But I don't know. That's why he didn't tell you—no one knows. They want to get to the _x_ on the map same as we do, and they want to end the war by destroying Eldia completely. Except for us Eldians who have served them; we've been promised status as honorary Marlayans."

 _Father, are you still waiting for me?_

"Why do you trust they'll do that for you?" Mike asks, more words than Annie's ever heard him say.

"I don't have a choice," Annie says, lifting her chin. "We all just want to save our own skins."

"And you don't think they can do that for you anymore," Nanaba supplies.

"No," Annie answers. "I don't think I can do that for them anymore." She slips out of the cell that Armin unlocks. "I can tell Erwin where Zeke will most likely be stopping for repairs; they'll need a solid bay to work in. If we sail around Rose Island, there's an inlet we can hide in. They won't see us coming."

"What if his ship isn't damaged?" Armin asks.

"In that storm? We've taken some hits, but if they went through the center of it, they've got far more to work on. And if they haven't been, we still have time to catch up to them, because they will be more off course than we are." Annie climbs the ladder, her shoulders burning.

" _Promise me that you'll come back," Father sobbed, throwing his arms around her. "Forgive me."_

The next few days pass in the storm's leftover fog and wind, the latter of which benefits them significantly. With each night, Annie's mind stretches as she curses herself for all her wrong decisions, and for all her right ones, and for the fact that she can't tell which is which anymore.

 _If I can't be a good person to Reiner, Bertolt, and my father anymore,_ Annie thinks. _Or Marcel._ Her chest tightens as she remembers him bleeding out in a pirate scuffle on their way to Shiganshina. They all screamed, even her, because no amount of pressure could stop his blood from pouring out until he was paler than a cloud.

The guilt almost crushes her. Her finger curl and shake, and she doubles over as she sits in the brig, a rat she's decided she rather likes for its plump cuteness squeaking nearby.

"Annie?"

She looks up to see Armin peering down at her.

 _You just want to use me._

 _Like everyone else._

And so what if he does? He's been kind to her. He thinks she can be kind. Maybe he has hope for her, maybe it's all manipulation—Annie doesn't know.

 _I can be a good person to you, Armin._

"Yeah?" she croaks out, hauling herself up.

"We're at the archipelago," Armin stammers. "Erwin's flying Eldian colors, the Reiss crest. If—"

"Erwin's avoiding the most common merchant paths, isn't he?"

Armin nods. "On your advice."

"No," Annie says. "He would have known what to do without me."

The rat squeaks again, and Armin gasps.

"He's cute," Annie says defensively.

Armin laughs weakly. "And disease-ridden."

"No," Annie says, crouching down and watching as the rat scampers back into the shadows. "He's cute and he just wants food."

"You gave him some of your food."

Annie flushes. "Just the crumbs." She clears her throat. "So, does Erwin need me?"

Armin nods.

Annie leaves the cell, her heart heavy. Her father's pleas hit her like his boots used to, straight in the ribs, and the memory of his hug strangles her.

"Are you okay, Annie?"

 _Why do you think your kindness and your mercy are less efficient, Armin? Sometimes they're stronger than any cannon_ , Annie thinks, her throat clogging up. "I'm fine." She pulls herself up.

At the helm, Annie points to several islands on the map, plus a few more that she's drawn in from memory. "Stay away from this one; there's a reef… this one has a decent bay—so does this one…"

The sun bleeds away and they slip through under the cover of night, Historia up in the crow's eye, watching for navy ships, Eldian merchants, and Zeke.

The first blush of dawn appears before Historia rings the bell. Three clangs.

 _Zeke_.

"Is she sure?" Mikasa demands, leaping to her feet with her sword at her side.

"Someone's in that bay for sure," Erwin says with a frown as he aims the spyglass. "Can't make them out, though."

"Let me look," Annie snaps, snatching the spyglass. She can't make out the colors or the shapes carved into the ship, but she knows from the sloping stern. "It's them."

Mikasa's mouth hovers open. Her eyes blaze as she turns to Annie. "Don't—just—get them back."

Annie gulps.

 _Promise me, Annie… forgive me…_

Annie claps her hands over her ears, rocking forwards. They're going to send her out there. By herself.

 _I'm going to be bad again,_ she thinks like a child. She could throw herself to the deck, kick and scream and pound and cry like a toddler, too. She never got to as a two-year-old.

"Annie will do fine," Armin says quietly.

"I don't see why I can't go," Historia says as Erwin sails around, to another inlet. Sasha helps Eld and Gunthur hoist a black flag to symbolize parley. There's no room for error, not here, not now. Oruo and Petra prepare another lifeboat, and Annie can't, can't, can't do this.

And if she said that, they'd listen, Annie realizes. Hate her, try to force her, but _hear_ her.

"Because we need you," snaps Jean, readying his musket. Levi adjusts his cutlasses, lining up beside Mikasa. Erwin nods at Annie. He doesn't trust her, but he has no choice.

Tears burn Annie's eyes. _Forgive me, Father_.

She turns to see Armin watching her. "You can't help Mikasa."

"Why?" demands Connie, bare-chested except for a leather vest. The pirate look suits him.

"Because," Annie says, her voice tight, too tight. " _I_ need his help. He always knows what to say—"

Mikasa nods as if to say _true enough_.

"You're smart enough on—" Armin starts.

" _Please_ help me, Armin." _Please be a good person to me._

"Okay," he agrees as Erwin nods.

Mikasa, Jean, and Levi climb into the lifeboat, and row away from the ship—Flegel's ship. Annie realizes she doesn't even know its name. The bay waters are calm, the air only meandering with a slight breeze. _The wind better not stop, or we're all going to die._

"You can do this," Armin encourages Annie as they sail closer to the other ship. Golden dawn splits the sky, illuminating them. The horrid, twisted creature that resembles a monkey gapes at them. She tears her gaze away from it and focuses on Armin's blazing eyes.

 _Someone once told you that you could do something you thought you weren't fit for, didn't they?_

 _Did you believe them right away? Or did you take convincing?_

She feels a hand against her shoulder and turns around to see Armin watching her. Erwin keeps his gaze stony.

 _Why not?_ At any moment a cannon could come flying at them, send them all to the bottom of this bay which is still too deep for Annie's liking. She turns to Armin, clutching the rail for support. Her bangs swing in front of her eyes, but she sees the questions on his face.

Quickly, her lips find his. She just needs a sip, for her own courage, and he gives it to her, opening his mouth and caressing her bottom lip.

Erwin clears his throat.

"Thank you," Annie ekes out as she pulls away not a moment too soon.

A cannon fires, splashing off their starboard side. A warning shot.

"Who goes there?" bellows a voice she recognizes.

"It's me!" Annie shouts, gripping the ropes to haul herself up onto the rail and hesitating. "Annie Leonhart!"

"Leonhart?" bellows Pieck, the one whose face looks like mule. "Heard you got yourself captured!"

 _I can't win against them. I can't even distract them long._

 _I can only create fissures._

"I am captured!" she yells, making her decision. "And they've come to parley." She gestures at Armin, who quickly aims his musket at her skull as if threatening her. Erwin hauls himself up onto the rail.

A thud, and a silence. Seagulls shriek and Annie could skin them. And then the deep voice she hears every night booms down.

"The Marlay don't parley with Eldians."


	16. The Parley

"But you're not Marlayans, are you?" Mikasa hears Erwin shout. She tenses, grabbing the picks and readying herself to jump overboard.

"Don't take long," Oruo grouses. "Or else it's all our lives on the line."

"We'll see." Levi sets his jaw, looking grim. They're all trusting in Annie, and Mikasa would be more comfortable trusting a snake.

She peers up at the enormous frigate. _Eren's there. Inside_.

"We're too close." Petra whispers. Gentle waves lap at the skiff.

Jean gets to his feet, nodding at Mikasa as they stare at the mostly placid water. The wind better pick up. Mikasa's sword drags against the wood as she tenses.

"Go," Petra encourages.

Mikasa slips overboard. The sea swallows her, cold and greedy. She kicks out, swimming below the surface as much as she can, watching the shimmering sunlight glimmer through the waves, until at last her lungs burn as she breaks the surface, gasping in air. She sees Jean to her left, plunging under again, and Levi to her right.

"What could you possibly have that we want?" she hears Zeke shouting. Mikasa's sword feels heavy at her side, but she needs it. She'd like to run it through that despicable piece of shit.

Mikasa ducks under again, stroking through the water and heading towards the ship. The salt burns her eyes. Too much water goes up her nostrils and she emerges, hacking.

"You okay?" Jean hisses, appearing beside her.

She nods and plunges back in. She reaches the ship before Jean does, but Levi's already using his picks to climb the side. _Fifth deck, there's a window, third from the bow_ , Mikasa recites Annie's instructions. _They'll be keeping Eren and Ymir in the brig most likely, but another possibility is the sixth deck._

Mikasa's shoulders strain as she pulls herself up, water cascading from her onto Jean's head. He coughs. "Sorry," she grinds out.

"Don't be," he calls up at her.

Above her, Mikasa can hear the parley going on. "If she wanted us to save her, she shouldn't have ratted on—"

"We took most of her fingers off," Erwin continues, dreadfully calm. Levi reaches the window and rears back. Mikasa freezes. _This is it._

Levi crashes through the window. Most of the glass falls into the ship, but a few shards tumble out towards her. She ducks her head and shakes the shards out of her hair.

"You'll never see your father again for this!" Zeke rages as Mikasa hauls herself into the ship. _The enemy's ship._ They're in a small cabin, complete with bunks covered in threadbare blankets and pillows that look like rocks. Levi looks back at her. "You and Kirchstein get Jaeger and Ymir. Don't wait for me."

"You're going to be okay, right?" Mikasa demands. _This better not be some suicide mission._

Levi scowls, but there's a strange tenderness in his eyes that reminds her of Dr. Jaeger, of her own father. "Dying isn't something I want to accomplish today."

And then he's gone, and Jean's pulling himself inside, and Mikasa's heart leaps. _Eren_.

 _We're coming for you._

"Quick," Jean grunts, darting through the dim corridor. Mikasa hears footsteps and drops down the ladder. She'll run them through with her sword if she has to, but she'd prefer not to.

Mikasa hits the deck and remembers the cold wood of that floor, the dust prickling her nose, and the overwhelming numbness seeping through her as her mind drained of everything except the blood streaming from her father's chest, gushing from her mother's head.

And through it all, she never once thought that anyone would come for her. It never crossed her mind, even though she knew that Dr. Jaeger was supposed to be visiting. Her parents, her protectors, were dead. Why would anyone else want to protect her?

She heard them talking, about what they'd do to her. She didn't care, because the emptiness and the hopelessness—those had already taken her life. Her body didn't matter in the throes of shock.

"We're here," Jean mumbles, nose wrinkly as the scent of waste and rot invades their nostrils. A lantern hangs from his hand; he must have taken it. Mikasa chastises herself—she needs to _think_ , or else they won't get out of here.

Mikasa steps forward, catching sight of the iron bars lining the cells of the brig. "Eren?"

"He's not here," Jean says.

"The sixth deck," Mikasa says, refusing to allow the pang in her chest to stymie her. They have to climb back up. They will find him.

 _When I gave up hope, Eren, you came. And I still couldn't believe it, not until you were almost killed trying to save me._

 _I won't leave you to that hopelessness._

"Shit!" Jean grabs her as they start to climb and hear two sailors laughing. Jean reaches down to blow the lantern out.

 _No!_ Mikasa reaches out and snatches it, throwing it against the bars of the brig with a resounding clang.

Jean gasps as flames start to lick at the grimy, dry deck.

"You hear that?" Mikasa hears above them. She grabs Jean and drags him to the side, her hand clutching the hilt of her sword. _It will distract them, putting out the fire._

Jean nods as she meets her eyes.

"Who's down here?" bellows a sailor with dark hair and thick glasses. "Shit! Zofia! Fire!"

He and his companion, a girl with short yellow hair, drop down, and Jean and Mikasa scramble for the ladder.

"Hey!" screams the girl, but Mikasa ignores her. The priority needs to be putting the flames out.

"I think it was Gabi and Falco again," says the man. "Lover's tryst—"

"I've never seen a girl with that face before!"

The clock's ticking now. Mikasa turns to Jean as he grabs a bag of sand and throws it down the hatch.

"Hey!" shrieks Zofia.

Mikasa lunges and grabs a barrel, rolling it over the edge of the hatch and trapping them. The sand will smother the flames, and this should keep them stuck in the brig until someone comes looking. _Unless someone heard…_

 _Sixth deck. There are unused cabins there._ Annie said it with her usual bored tone, although now, the thought strikes Mikasa that maybe bored is Annie's shock. _Maybe it's her hopelessness._

"I'm not leaving without him," Mikasa pants as she and Jean dash for the ladder.

"Then _we're_ not leaving without him," Jean vows, gritting his teeth as he hauls himself up. "Come on!"

* * *

"What good does it do to just keep lying there?" Ymir demands.

Eren has no answer for her. He lies curled up on his side, his stomach rumbling, but he refuses to eat.

 _Eat, and live._ He can almost taste the bland bread, feel the staleness scraping his tongue.

 _I can't even eat, Mikasa. I'm failing you._ Tears track down his cheeks.

 _All those times I said I didn't need you… I did. I do._

 _And my evil brother will make sure I never see you again._

"Come on, Eren. You _get_ to live. I won't, not once we reach Marlay."

Eren shakes his head, pounding his fist into the deck. "You're not going to die! They won't kill you!"

"They will, once they find out who I am and what I've done."

"And who are you? What have you done? Are you my sister now?" Eren shouts, still unable to face her.

"Who knows?" Ymir sounds exhausted. "If you trace us all back far enough, I'm sure we'd all be related."

Eren frowns, a splinter rubbing into his chin from this blasted deck. It occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, if he were to play nice with Zeke, he might be able to procure Ymir's life for her. Not that Zeke has shown himself to be all that prone to mercy, but he could try.

But that would mean talking to Zeke like he hadn't sought to death of Eren's friends, hadn't murdered his mother, hadn't shattered Eren's vision of his father. _I share blood with monsters._

 _And what is my father? Monster or hero?_

 _What am I, if I'm considering abandoning Ymir to execution just because I can't fake genteelness with my brother for a few days?_

But Eren somehow knows it wouldn't be a few days. It'd be the rest of his life, and if Zeke had his way, he would kill Mikasa, Armin, Historia, all of them.

He bites his tongue so hard blood blooms, soaking his mouth and running down his throat. He spits a few drops onto the floor.

"Lovely," Ymir comments.

"Why don't you want to fight for your life, huh?" Eren demands. _Why should I fight for yours, if you won't fight yourself?_

"I make my own choices," Ymir snaps. "No one will kill me unless it's what I want."

"And is it what you want?"

"I _want_ to be in charge of my own life."

"Well, you're doing a great job, locked in this cabin as a prisoner!"

"I'm glad you're angry," Ymir says. "At least you feel something."

Tears burn Eren's eyes. "I want to kill Bertolt and Reiner."

"Why?" Ymir asks with a snort. "Your brother may do it for you, but if he doesn't, they're pawns."

"How—"

"Young people, children, like us, Eren—we're always pawns."

Eren buries his face back in the floor. He can't even sleep. When he dozes, he sees his father, and he wakes up screaming. Ymir's shaken him a few times.

 _Some relief, please. I just want—I want—I need to—_

His throat aches. _I'm so scared._

Sooner rather than later, Zeke will come back, and Eren will have to betray himself, Mikasa, Armin, and everyone he loves, and save Ymir, or betray Ymir and save no one's life but his own.

 _No matter what I choose, I am a coward._ Tears leak from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. _I'm no hero_. Not like the swashbuckling, daring captains Mother used to read him stories about.

Somehow he always imagined clear choices, like saving Mikasa or running, like honoring his father's last wish or betraying him. Now, no matter what he chooses, someone will die.

 _Who will I be then?_

The door jolts, as if someone's kicked it. Eren freezes. _He's here._

"Use the keys; it's easier," Ymir deadpans.

The door crashes in. Eren jerks up, leaning on his elbow. The door barely hangs on its hinges, lopsided, and a familiar sword gleams.

Eren rubs his eyes. _I must have fallen asleep_ , _because this is a dream._

"Oh, good, you're both here," Jean growls, beckoning for Ymir with his musket. "Let's go."

 _What?_ Eren blinks. He can't move. _Can this be—it can't—_

"Did they hurt you?" Mikasa demands, her sweet voice cutting through the air, and it's real, _she's_ real, she's _here_. Eren shakes his head as she crouches before him. "I'm here, Eren." Her fingers reach out, brushing at his obvious tear tracks. Her blouse and britches cling to her, sopping wet.

"You're—"

"I'll always find you," she vows. He notices that her scarf's missing, probably dry aboard— _where? Erwin's ship sank!_

"We need to get moving!" snarls Jean.

Mikasa sheathes her sword, holding her hand out to Eren. He takes it, and lets her pull him to his feet.

 _You came for me._

"Good job, brats," snaps a cold voice as they dart into another cabin.

"You weren't supposed to wait for us!" Jean shouts.

Levi shrugs. "Let's go."

A crack echoes from the doorway. Eren whirls around to see Bertolt standing there, musket aimed at Mikasa's skull.

And he looks terrified.

* * *

"You aren't going to shoot us," Jean says with a nervous laugh.

"You know what I am. You don't even know half of what I've done." Bertolt's legs won't stop shaking. It started when Zeke ordered him and Reiner off deck, claiming that they were distracting him as he tried to negotiate with Erwin for Annie— _poor Annie!_ She looked as if she could barely stand on her feet.

The broken window was the first sign of an intruder. Reiner decided they ought to split up _—"if you see them," he told Bertolt, handing over a musket. "You know what you need to do. Don't let me down."  
_

 _The bruises from Zeke's beating, bruises that should be Bertolt's since Reiner's trying to save Annie for him, peeked out from under Reiner's collar. "I won't."_

" _You've never once proved that you're reliable," Reiner retorted, and shame curdled in Bertolt's belly. Because it was true. He may have been the strongest in training, the best swimmer, the largest and quickest, but his character is his greatest weakness._

" _I won't let you down," he vowed, fire igniting in his joints. The intruders could kill Reiner—he couldn't let that happen. No matter what it meant. And if the intruders got away, Zeke might blame and kill Reiner, or even Annie. "I'll do it."_

 _Reiner nodded, face still hard, and how Bertolt wanted it to melt. "I'm counting on you." He punched Bertolt's shoulder in confidence._

"I'm not the timid Bertolt you're used to," Bertolt adds.

"Kid, you may have me beat in overall number of kills, but you're a kid," Levi says. "Jean, you and Ymir go first."

"Ymir, go," Jean orders, keeping his eyes trained on Bertolt. Mikasa's sword aims at him, her arm steady.

"I can shoot before you so much as move your hand," Bertolt warns her, his hand shaking. "Don't take another step, Ymir!"

Ymir's face is twisted with almost—is that _pity_? The sunlight spills in around her, and though Bertolt's never found her pretty, she looks almost like a goddess.

"Ymir, go," Jean orders again.

Bertolt's finger closes around the trigger, but—he can't pull it. _What is wrong with me?_

 _"I understand you, you know," Ymir told him._

 _On the deck of the No Regrets, Jean laughed and teased him, rubbing his hair as if he was a friend_ — _a_ friend.

And right now, in Jean's eyes, he sees determination and yet sorrow. Pity, but not with any of the disgust he'd expect.

Mikasa's foot flies out, knocking the musket out of his hand. Bertolt stumbles—he should lunge, pick it up—

But he doesn't. He stands there, hunched over, watching Ymir leap out the window, followed by Eren, Mikasa, Levi, and lastly, Jean.

"Thank you," Jean says quietly, before he slips out. A splash echoes, and Bertolt curls his fist.

 _I failed you again, Reiner. I couldn't do it._

And he's not even sure he regrets it. His fingertips tingle. Bertolt crouches down, trying to regulate his breathing. _In. Out. In. Out._

 _Home…_

The door swings open, and Bertolt can't so much as leap to his feet. Pieck sprints into the room. "Did they—"

"They got away!" Reiner cries out. _Warrior_ Reiner. Bertolt's stomach turns. "Are you hurt? Bertl!" He grabs him by the shoulders, mouth slack in fear.

 _I betrayed you..._

"If you had just told us earlier that there were intruders none of this would have happened!" snarls Pieck, curling his fist.

"Stop!" Bertolt screams, and everyone freezes, looking at him. His hands shake and his face burns. "I—"

"Don't tell me it was your fault and not Braun's," warns Pieck, holding Reiner by his collar. Reiner glares at Pieck, but it's obviously what will happen—Zeke will kill Reiner for this. Colt appears, his face white.

 _But_ I _can stop it._ With the truth.

"But it is," Bertolt manages. "I let them go."

* * *

"Let's go!" Erwin grabs Annie, swinging back over towards Flegel's ship. Historia peers through the opening on the gun deck, watching as Hange, who dropped the first rope for Erwin and Annie to grab, snatches Armin and flies out of sight.

"Shoot them!" Historia hears Zeke bellow. She darts away from the opening and drops the fuse into the cannon, covering her ears as the boom echoes. Gunpowder fills the air.

A few musket shots echo, but the only cannons firing are the ones she, Connie, Sasha, Eld, and Gunthur light. _It worked,_ Historia thinks, dizzy with relief. _And above—_

Levi strolls below deck. "They may have a slight problem with their gunpowder."

Historia bolts to her feet. "You did it?"

"Go to the captain's cabin," Levi tells her.

"Will they chase us?" Connie asks.

"Not if they don't want us to sink them. They can't fight back."

Historia races over to the ladder, rushing up. Her heart pounds and she wipes the sweat off her brow. The morning sunlight shines through the portholes as she throws open the door.

Erwin stands next to Hange, a small smile on his face. Annie leans against one of the maps lining the wall, her arms crossed as, right in front of her, Armin and Mikasa both embrace Eren. And on the bed—

"Ymir!"

She looks up, her face paler and eyes wide. Her deep brown hair hangs greasy and matted in front of her.

Historia throws her arms around her, and Ymir gasps. She's warm against Historia's chest. Tears fill her eyes. "I was so worried! You're okay—did they hurt you?"

Ymir shakes her head. She pulls back, crossing her arms and picking at the threadbare blanket. "Didn't I tell you to focus on your own life? What are you doing saving mine?"

Historia blinks, her heart sinking.

 _No. This is different from before. I'll show you_. "I—I want you in mine."

"Be careful about how you talk to the queen, Ymir," Jean drawls. Historia hadn't even noticed him.

"Queen?" Ymir's brow furrows, but her eyes sparkle.

"I'm taking over," Historia declares, tightening her fist. "We're going to—when we end this war—I will be the one negotiating with the Marlay about whatever we find on that island. And then I will depose my father for his ineffectual and cruel ruling and I will govern—" She gulps. "As best I can." _I won't kill him though. I can't._

 _What if I have to?_

A grin starts to spread over Ymir's face. "I approve of this, _Historia_."

The sound of her real name, all those syllables rolling off Ymir's tongue, tugs at Historia. Tears fill her eyes as she leans in, pressing her lips against Ymir's. Ymir hesitates, and then gives in, kissing Historia back. She feels the wetness of the tears dripping down Ymir's own face, feels Ymir's hands in her hair, and she forgets that seven other people are crowded in this tiny cabin. _Ymir, you showed me how to live._

 _I love you._

"Wait, what?" Eren yelps. "Queen? How?"

"It's a long story," Historia ekes out, prying herself away from Ymir's embrace. She launches into the explanation.

"They got the map, though," Eren whispers, shame clouding his face.

"I figured they would," Erwin answers.

"I'm sorry," Eren mumbles, pressing his fists against his eyes. Ymir grips Historia's hand.

"For what?" Armin asks as Mikasa rests her hand on Eren's shoulder.

"It's going to be okay," Hange says, crouching down. "Erwin had the foresight to make a copy of the map when he first took it from you when you came aboard the _No Regrets."_

Erwin rummages through a sliding drawer under the table, plucking out a small rectangle. He presents it to Eren, whose face sags in relief.

"And what is she doing here?" Eren asks, blinking as if he's just noticed Annie.

"She's working with us now," Armin answers. "She helped us drag out that parley so Mikasa and Jean could rescue you, and Levi could ruin their gunpowder."

"Oh." Eren frowns, biting his lip. He nods at Annie. "Thanks."

She huddles in on herself.

"Hey, Erwin," says Levi sticking his head through the door. "You better come out here."

 _Oh no._ Fear spikes through Historia as she leaps to her feet. All of them rush out into the blinding sunlight.

"For our captain!" shouts Mike, raising his fist and pressing it against his chest in a kind of salute.

Historia blinks. The entire crew seems to be gathered on deck, and they're all raising their fists and cheering for him.

"And for our queen!" Nanaba adds, and Historia almost feels faint. _I did so little!_

"Wouldn't be possible without you," Jean hisses in her ear. Ymir yanks her hand from Historia's. Historia blinks, alarmed until she sees that Ymir is copying the salute—and kneeling in front of her.

* * *

"You," Zeke seethes. "Are absolutely—"

Reiner doesn't understand. _Bertl, why would you_ —

Bertolt's chin lolls against his chest. The ship sits anchored in the bay. They won't be able to move until nightfall, and then they'll have to stop to pick up supplies.

" _It's okay," Pieck groused. "We still have the map."_

Somehow Reiner isn't certain that the map is the treasure Zeke wanted.

"Look me in the goddamn eyes!" Zeke rants.

Bertolt doesn't, though. He seems to shrink, his hands bound before him like he's a prisoner. Pieck clutches his shoulders.

"Act like a man," Zeke snaps. His hand strikes Bertolt's face, but Bertolt barely flinches.

"Zeke—" Reiner starts.

"Shut up, Braun!" Zeke's eyes glitter. "Unless you were in on it?"

"Of course I wasn't!" Reiner shouts. "Bertl—I mean, Bertolt—wants to go home; this doesn't even make sense!"

"Pet names? Is he your lover?"

"No." Reiner's face flushes.

Zeke snorts. "Let's hope you have better taste than this coward."

And now Reiner can't bring himself to look at Bertolt. Because he loves him. _But he's a traitor! He's ruined everything!_

"He seemed shocked when Hoover confessed," Pieck puts in.

"Well, there's one way to tell." Zeke steps back, rubbing his chin. "Tie him to the mast. Colt, bring me the whip."

"You're not going to just strand him here? It'd make the most sense," says Pieck, pressing his fingers down into Bertolt's shoulders. Bertolt's skin looks gray behind a sheen of sweat.

"I don't want that Eldian captain coming back around, and I'm never underestimating him again," Zeke growls. He wipes his hands on his pants. "Get going. We'll lock him in the brig and let the Marlay decide what to do with him."

"If it were me," Reiner says coldly. "You'd have killed me."

"That's because you're less of a coward, and therefore more dangerous. I can always make good on that, you know," Zeke says as he steps closer.

The sun blazes down on them as they drag Bertolt to the post, stripping his shirt off his back. Something warm and strange floods Reiner's stomach, but he shakes it off. _This has to happen—at least Bertolt won't be dead—we can figure it out, come up with a plan—we have to take Eren back—_

A crack as the whip rends the air, and then Reiner sees Bertolt shudder. It takes five lashes before he screams, and with his scream, Reiner jolts.

* * *

 _What's happening?_

Blood drips down a familiar back, beaded and falling like rubies in crisscross designs. The sun almost blinds him, and Reiner has to squint. But it's Bertolt, it's _Bertolt_ , his best friend—the boy he'd die for— _how is this happening?_

Without a word, he's moving forward. Pieck catches his arm. "You want to wind up with your head hanging from the bow?"

 _What?_ "But why?" Reiner chokes out. "How—" _I would have defended him, even if I snapped!_

Pieck narrows his eyes, and then smirks. "So it's true."

"What?" Reiner demands.

"You're two people." Emmett's mouth cracks open in a soundless laugh. Colt watches with his jaw agape. "He let our prisoners escape while Annie betrayed us, used herself as a negotiation ploy when she really wanted to give the Eldians time to help them escape."

 _I'm Eldian. You're Eldian_. Reiner shakes his head, shame crushing his shoulders. _I'm not two people._

 _I'm half a person. I'm_ broken _._

Another crack, another cry. Reiner can't stand this—he has to stop it! "It was me, it was—"

"Shut _up!"_ Pieck stomps on Reiner's foot. Bertolt screamed so loudly that Zeke didn't hear Reiner's cry.

 _How long?_ Reiner wonders, dizzy. _Bertolt would have been depending on me—waiting for me to stick up for him—but I didn't!_

 _Does he hate me?_ He should. A tear cuts at Reiner's eyes.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried.

"Cut him down," Zeke orders. Blood stains Bertolt's pants, coats his back, and Reiner just wants to lunge forward, carry him, help him. Colt hurries forward to obey.

But Pieck keeps an iron grip on his arm.

"Take him to the brig," Zeke orders. "No medicine." He turns to the rest of the crew, face twisted. "This is what happens when you let fear interfere with your sworn duty! Think of your families!"

But Reiner can't think. He can only see Bertolt, dragged across the deck.

 _I didn't help him._

Despite the sun, he feels cold in the soles of his feet, in his palms.

 _What have I become?_


	17. The Deserters

"What the hell is this?" Levi demands as he arrives at dinner in Erwin's cabin.

"Bread and cheese. The last we have of the latter, I might add," Erwin says. "And some wine. Also the end of that bottle. We're going to have to stop for supplies."

Hange watches as he bites his lip, clearly disturbed that he can't deliver any grain or rice to the island-dwellers. "Just think! Soon the war will end, if we're lucky—although admittedly that'd be new for us—and the islands won't be so lacking in necessities—"

"Can you stop?" Levi requests with a scowl. He plops into a seat, grabbing his goblet of wine.

"Levi," Erwin says.

"Yeah?"

"Good job today."

Levi lowers his head. "Zeke will come after us."

"I know," Erwin says quietly.

"He will want to kill you. I know his type."

"We have to do this, Levi."

"I _know_ ," Levi snaps. "But sometimes I think you're overly careless about your own life. You didn't need to be on deck with Leonhart today. She's more than capable of doing it herself, especially with Arlert."

"How were we supposed to know to trust her?" Hange demands. "Oruo still complains about headaches."

"Oruo is full of it."

Hange shrugs. Petra seems to think so too, although she doesn't mind indulging Oruo's requests and kissing his headaches away.

"You think you have to be a hero," Levi accuses, tearing off a chunk of bread.

Hange frowns. The wine leaves a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. "Erwin or you?"

"Erwin," Levi grouses, jabbing a chunk of cheese into his mouth.

"Would you rather we abandoned Eldia to destruction and ruin?" Hange asks sharply.

Levi glares at her. "No. But I don't see why Erwin is always putting himself at risk."

"It's his duty as our captain," Hange says.

"He goes above and beyond what's required of a captain. Which is why everyone loves him." Levi points his finger at him. "But I'm telling you that you better not die."

Erwin blinks. "If I have to lay down my life—"

"Not going to happen," Levi snaps.

 _Is this about you or Erwin?_ Hange wonders.

Erwin pushes his chair back. The sea seems tranquil tonight. "My father always believed the king was lying, that he could have ended the war if he really wanted to."

"On what evidence?" Hange gasps. _This_ —this is potentially great news. If other people suspect, then Historia's coup is far more likely to—

"His experiences serving directly under the king planted suspicions in his mind." Erwin snorts. "Unfortunately, when I was eight, he made the mistake of answering my questions about why no one had come up with an alternate solution to war after almost a hundred years."

"And?" Hange questions, leaning across the table. Her stomach feels tight, as if a rubber band's wrapped around it.

"I told all my friends his suspicions," Erwin says quietly, peering at the blood red of the wine in his goblet. "The next day he was killed by a robber."

"You mean the government," Levi growls. "Assassins like my uncle."

"Was he always an assassin?" Hange asks. "Or—"

"No." Levi lets out a barking laugh. "He was recruited for his talents killing people. I presume. He worked alone as far as I knew, when I lived with him."

"We both grew up cutting people up," Hange says. "My parents were doctors, like me." She sighs.

Levi looks revolted.

"I've sacrificed a lot of lives trying to prove my father right," Erwin says quietly. Both Hange and Levi spin around to look at him. "I care about Eldia too, of course, but my father—" He gulps, pushing his food away from him. "I have more blood on my hands than the two of you combined. I never intended to obey the king when I set off as a navy captain, not for long and not in anything of importance. That's why I recruited you, Levi. I knew you could be an asset."

"As usual," Levi comments. "You were right."

"If I have to be a monster," Erwin says. "A demon, to stop this war—I will be. I don't want to destroy the Marlay. I just want this war to end. I want to honor my father's name, so that I can be more than his murderer."

Hange blinks. "You're not—"

Levi shakes his head. "No point."

"Huh?"

"He's made up his mind, Hange," Levi says. And Levi pushes his chair back, getting to his feet. He downs the rest of his wine. "But I'm not going to let you use heroism as a way to commit suicide."

Erwin laughs, and the look in his blue eyes—it's tired, like melting ice. "I don't want to die, Levi. I'm afraid of dying."

Hange bites her lip, adjusting her glasses. "We can be afraid of what we want."

Erwin blinks.

Hange hesitates, and then follows Levi out. "Levi!"

"What is it, Four-eyes?" Levi turns, a smirk on his lips.

"You really think Erwin—"

"I don't know what I think. I just know that he wouldn't be upset about losing another arm, and wouldn't stop this mission if he did." Levi blows out his breath. "It's a worthy goal. I just wish he'd put a higher value on his own life."

"Mm." Hange wonders.

"You know, Erwin is comfortable being a monster," Levi says. "If it gets him the results he craves. He doesn't care that his reputation is in tatters. He never has, so long as he puts his monstrosity to good use."

"Your reputation isn't something you lose sleep over, either."

"My reputation is just fine with the people whose opinions I actually care about," Levi says as he climbs out of the hatch. The stars glitter in the sky, numerous and sprawling, some close and some only hints of light.

"Sometimes I think you're too clean, though," Hange says.

He narrows his eyes. "I want to be better than a monster. My—uncle—gave in to it. I think he figured that if he had done such monstrous things, he might as well be the most monstrous monster anyone could think of. I don't think I want that."

"I don't know," Hange answers. She cranes her neck back then, soaking in the stars. "I think monsters are interesting."

"I'd give you permission to dissect my brain after I die, except I don't trust you to use the most sterile tools."

Hange howls with laughter. "Do you wonder what a world without the war will be like? There's no much to discover. The Marlay may have made great scientific advancements—in medicine and elsewise—there's so much knowledge we miss out on because we're feuding with each other about God knows what."

"I leave the wondering to you," Levi answers.

Hange cocks her head, taking him in, the sturdy line of his jaw, his almond-shaped eyes. "When this is over," she says. "If we both survive, we have to explore some of the new islands together." _It will be easier to wonder when you're not focused on surviving._ "I need to focus on the world around me even in the middle of all this fighting, the things I don't understand, because then they scare me less." And maybe, just maybe, Hange's caught glimpses of beauty in the middle of horror. The body's incredible ability to heal itself. The way a heart will keep beating against all odds sometimes, the plethora of colored fish swimming in the ocean under them and the cruel barracudas, the way the stars wink as they have for millions of years, teasing generation after generation and offering a reprieve from the deaths everyone who has ever lived has experienced around them.

"Hmph." Levi crosses his arms, resting his chin on his wrists as he peers over the railing. "Maybe."

* * *

"You should get some rest, Eren," Mikasa says as Eren pries himself out of his hammock. Her scarf's back around her neck, red and warm. Seeing it relieves Eren. _Some things haven't changed._

"I'm fine."

"Erwin said you don't need to serve today," Mikasa counters, crossing her arms. Armin appears behind her, brow furrowed.

"I don't want to rest," Eren snaps. "I need to—do something."

"Like what?" Armin demands.

"Mikasa—Armin—" Eren can barely get the words out, but he needs to. He didn't sleep during the night, and he's sure shadows line his face. He saw Zeke when he closed his eyes, and Zeke's image sometimes blurred into Father's. "That captain—Zeke—is my brother."

"What?" Armin squeaks. Mikasa's mouth opens in a small 'o.'

"My father used to live in an Eldian ghetto in Marlay. He escaped, somehow." Eren shakes his head, and then it's too much for him—he can't—he doubles over, clutching his skull.

And Mikasa's there, grabbing him, holding him upright. He presses his forehead into her shoulder, feels the wool of the scarf scratch his forehead. Armin's hand rubs small circles into his shoulder blades, and Eren feels helpless.

 _But I'm not. Because they're helping me._

"So," Armin says. "You and Zeke—you're different. You can't feel bad, Eren—"

"My father isn't who I thought he was."

"No," Mikasa agrees, prying his face up and peering down at him. "But he still took me in."

Her words sooth him, covering his parched mind with cool, clear water. _He wasn't a bad man._

 _But he wasn't an angel._ Eren gulps.

"We have to take him out, Eren, you know that," Armin says.

"I know." Eren hunches his shoulders. He doesn't want to think about that, or about Zeke at all, right now. "I just—I needed you two."

"We're here," Mikasa says.

"I know, and I'm—really glad." _If Father had friends like you, would he have been stronger?_

 _When I'm weak,_ Eren thinks, watching Mikasa's face, the slight tremble in her lips. _You are my strength. When I can't think of what to say, Armin fills them in. When you both are scared, I push you on._

 _And when I'm lonely, Mikasa, you're always there._

Eren reaches out and clasps Mikasa's hand. Armin takes a step back, but when Eren turns, he sees a smile on his friend's face.

"Eren?" Mikasa asks.

He uses his thumb to brush several onyx strands from her face. He edge of his thumb touches her lips. Mikasa's eyes grow wide. "Eren?"

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he asks, face hovering close, so close, to hers.

She closes her eyes. "What do you want?"

 _Dammit, Mikasa_. "Forget about that. I want to know what you want, right now. Forget how I feel."

Mikasa's face crumples. "I want _you_."

The three words hang in the cramped air of the hold. Eren starts to smile.

"Eren?" she asks again.

He presses both his palms against her cheeks. His lips are millimeters from hers. Her breaths feel warm against his chin.

Eren presses his lips down, taking hers in his mouth. She hesitates, and then responds. Her tongue presses into his mouth, and a strange tingling sensation runs down Eren's chest, collects in his abdomen.

 _I never want to let you go._

* * *

"They seem to be doing all right," Annie comments from behind Armin.

He jumps, face blooming red. He shouldn't have been spying like that—

"You're happy? Okay with it?" Annie questions, leaning back against the ladder.

He nods. "Of course. Since the day Eren introduced me to her, I knew—I wanted—" He shakes his head. "I knew what _they_ wanted."

Annie smiles. "You're a special person, Armin."

He squirms. "I'm glad you're back. Out of the brig, I mean."

"You're one of the few."

"Not true," Armin insists. "Just—okay, Petra and Oruo are still a bit hesitant, but you can hardly blame them."

"No," Annie agrees. "I don't blame them." She smirks. "Doesn't mean I don't wish their behavior was different, though. Isn't it awful of me?"

"No," Armin answers, honestly. "It's human."

Annie's jaw drops.

"Annie, you helped save Eren and Ymir, and everyone, really," Armin says. "If we really end the war, you'll have—"

"Will I be remembered more for the lives I helped save, or the lives I took? Is it fair to ask, or even hope, that it's the former even among the loved ones of the people at, say, Fort Shiganshina?" Her eyes blaze, and Armin understands that she's challenging him.

"It will be up to them," Armin says with a shrug. He swallows and studies the deck. " _I_ forgive you, Annie."

A sharp intake of breath. And then: "Why?" Her voice cracks.

"Because I don't believe in good or bad people. I believe everyone has the chance to be good or bad, and we choose every moment, and we've all chosen and we've all chosen good." Armin gulps as he remembers all the times he let Eren take his beatings for him, how he manipulated his bullies into fighting each other sometimes. "Maybe on different scales, but—"

"I'm sorry I kissed you," Annie blurts out.

 _Huh?_ Armin blinks.

"It's just that—you give me hope," Annie says, sniffling. "But it wasn't fair of me. I—"

He studies her. She's not manipulating him. She really is sorry. _And me?_ "Annie, I—"

"It's okay," she says quickly. "It was presumptuous of me to—"

Armin can't help but laugh. "Annie, _this_ is presumptuous of you."

"What do you mean?"

 _You have to say it_. Some of that old fear tries to crawl back, but Armin shoves it away. "Because you challenge me. You twist what I think of the world. You show me new possibilities. You make me hope for the future, because you changed, because you might have been an enemy but you were so like us—lonely, scared, and you couldn't stop yourself from caring no matter how hard you tried. I can only imagine what you're like when you're not pushing everyone away, because Annie, you care a _lot_."

Her eyes squeeze shut in a grimace. "I'm sorry, Armin. For what I did—I'm really—"

"I know you are," Armin says. "And I—Annie, I—" Her eyes are still closed, and Armin screws his courage, bending down and planting his lips against hers.

"Armin, really?" she asks, cracking her eyes open.

He kisses her again in answer, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders. Armin's not sure what to do with his hands, but hers pull him closer, and she tastes sweet, and he can only think of how this is all so _bizarre_ and yet so, so perfect.

"Oh, good grief," Jean complains. "Eren and Mikasa over there, and you and Annie over here. I'm telling you, Marco, there's no place we can go for privacy."

"You're one to talk," Armin says, prying himself away from Annie's lips.

Marco reddens, and Jean laughs.

"Come here," Annie says, pulling him in again.

* * *

Connie shakes his head, but Sasha silences him with a biscuit she shoves into his mouth. They're stopping for supplies within a few hours. They'll get more food, and besides, she's hungry. And Erwin said that he won't let anyone except Mike, Nanaba, Levi, and Hange go ashore.

"Hitch, what if this doesn't work?"

Sasha pauses, listening to Marlowe argue with Hitch. The ship surges over a larger wave.

"We have to try, Marlowe," Hitch retorts. "Think about it. We're wasted here. We can't accomplish much."

"I know," Marlowe says, voice quiet.

"Know what?" Connie asks, barging through. He chomps down on the biscuit Sasha gave him.

Marlowe cringes, head dropping. Hitch sniffs as if their presence is unwelcome. Which it possibly is.

But Sasha knows what they're discussing. "You're going to leave, aren't you? While we're stopped at the port. You'll take a lifeboat or swim, but you're deserting us."

Connie's jaw drops. "Sasha! This is Marlowe—he wouldn't—"

But Marlowe lowers his face even further, unable to meet Connie's eyes.

"You can't!" Connie explodes. "You cowards! I'll go and get—"

"We aren't doing anyone any good by staying here," Hitch cuts in, crossing her arms. She moves next to Marlowe, adopting an almost protective stance. "We can what, load cannons?"

"You're leaving because you're afraid," Connie seethes, fist curling. "That we're all going to die—that Zeke will hunt us down and—"

"Believe what you want." Hitch rolls her eyes.

"But we like having you," Sasha says softly. "If you go back to the military, you'd be hanged—"

"Neither of us have any intention of doing that." Hitch tosses her hair.

"Then why?" Connie shouts, storming up to them. The biscuit sits half-eaten in his palm. "You _cowards_. My entire family's been killed; do you know that? My entire family and my entire village. We _have_ to end this war!"

Marlowe looks up know, skin blanching. "Connie—"

"I trusted you! You always talk about doing the right thing and—and how can this possibly be the right thing? In any way?" Connie shakes his head, voice fraying.

"You can both come with us," Hitch interjects. "If you want to. We could use your help."

"Help with that?" Sasha cries out. Her friends—why would they desert them? "Navigating the archipelago? Don't you understand it's more important to end the war, or else we'll never be safe, no matter where we go and what we do?" As she speaks, conviction fills her voice.

 _We have to do this._

 _I might die._

Her stomach flip-flops, and possibly for the first time in her life, Sasha wishes she hadn't eaten that biscuit.

 _But you've known it all along._

"I know," Marlowe says quietly. "Sasha, Connie—"

"We can't tell you unless you agree to come with us," Hitch cuts in.

Sasha shakes her head. "I'm not a coward anymore." Her Dauper accent filters her words, and she doesn't even flush with shame.

"Connie?" Hitch asks.

"You should know," Marlowe says in a low voice. "Connie. We heard—well, Hitch heard, when she was flirting with those guards at the fortress in Sina—that there's a survivor of the Ragako massacre. A middle-aged woman, surname Springer."

Sasha gasps. Connie's mouth hangs open. "My—mother?"

"Is there another Mrs. Springer?" Hitch grumbles.

"Not in my village." Connie's eyes narrow. "You're sure? You—why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Don't yell at Marlowe," Hitch says. "I didn't tell him until last night."

"And what are they doing with her?" Connie yells. Sasha watches him. She can't imagine what it'd be like to know that her mother was dead, and then to have that burst of hope—she's _alive_.

No, her mother's been buried for years.

"She's in a refugee settlement. She's safe, for now, I presume," Hitch says. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Connie." She looks as if she has more to say, but she bites her lips and quiets.

"You should go," Sasha tells Connie. "It's your mother. You only get one."

He gapes at her. "And what about you?"

"I'm staying." _Don't ask me again, please don't ask me again_ —because her resolve wavers, and Sasha doesn't have enough faith in her own bravery to keep this up.

"What about you all?" Connie demands.

"We've got Erwin," Sasha says simply. "We'll be—we'll try."

Connie wets his lips as he looks up at her. He turns to Marlowe and Hitch. "I'm staying here."

"Are you sure?" Hitch asks, blinking.

Connie jerks his head in a nod.

"Connie," Sasha starts.

"Shut up, stowaway." Connie crosses his arms. "And the right thing to do is to inform Erwin that you're deserting."

"Is that what we're doing?" Hitch questions.

"You know damn well it is!"

"Trust us," Marlowe requests. "Please." He meets Sasha's eyes, and despite her misgivings, she nods.

"We won't tell."

"Sasha!"

"What?" she demands.

"Fine," Connie acquiesces. "But—you wait. I'll really honor my mother when I end the war that took my father and my sister and my brother!" He throws his shoulders back, puffing his chest out. "It's much better than the esteem I thought I'd get with gold."

 _And for me, it's much better than running away. I'm running towards the danger, even if my family never finds out._

Connie gives her a grin, and Sasha can't help herself. She throws her arms around him, planting her lips against his.

"Well then," Marlowe comments.

"You two should try it sometime," Connie mumbles, prying himself away for some air.

Marlowe's jaw drops. Hitch laughs.

 _They're idiots_. Sasha peers at Connie. Maybe they both are too, but dammit, Sasha wants to take another risk, much like her risk stowing away on that ship. She doesn't know how it will end, but anything's better than staying frozen in fear. And Connie's courage seeps into her, and maybe, just maybe, hers will inspire him.


	18. The Defector

_I'm a monster._

It's been over a week, and between Zeke, Pieck, and the rest of the crew, no one's let him out of their sight. He hasn't had a single chance to see Bertolt. They're passing island after island, complete with towering emerald cliffs, azure water and diamond waves, and Reiner can't enjoy any of it.

The worst part is that the other side of him might be enjoying it. Reiner can't tell. There are gaps in his memories—smaller than usual, now, but they're still there, and he's terrified that in those moments he forgets to care about Bertolt, forgets to hate himself because it's the only penance he has to give.

 _You_ , Reiner thinks as he watches Zeke at the helm, shirtless as per usual. _You turned me into a monster._

And for the first time, Reiner envies Annie. She fled. She betrayed them, and she's whole for it.

 _I just want to be one person again, and I want Bertolt to be okay_. Because Reiner loves Bertolt. He's known since they were ten years old and Marcel was joking about trying to kiss Annie—she'd punched him—and Reiner realized that he wanted to kiss Bertolt.

 _Bertolt thinks I like Christa._ And Reiner does like Christa, but he can't picture kissing her. She's an idealized angel to him, someone who can save him, who can make him the older brother he pretended to be.

"We're only a day out," cackles Pieck. "And the wind's favorable, blowing us west."

Colt studies his shoes.

 _We're a day west of the island,_ Reiner thinks. _And the inevitable end of the war._

The thought hits him like a cannon blast. He clutches the rigging, ropes cutting and blistering his skin. Sweat slides down his back. He remembers all the nights Bertolt woke up in a bizarre sleeping pose, how worried he was after Marcel first teased him. _"Do you think it means I'm crazy?" Bertolt asked Reiner, stuffing tasteless oatmeal into his mouth._

" _No," Reiner said, thinking quickly. "It means you're an artist. A sleep artist."_

 _At that, Bertolt smiled._

Although, so many nights when Reiner observed Bertolt twisted and contorting himself in his sleep, Reiner just wanted to wrap his arms around him so Bertolt wouldn't have to wake up with a sore neck or a throbbing shoulder the next day, hold him close, whisper that it was okay, that he didn't have to perform even in his sleep, that he could _rest_.

Reiner could vomit when he thinks of Bertolt sleeping in the unforgiving, reeking brig.

"Sail ahead!" bellows Colt.

Reiner scrambles to the starboard side, watching as a tiny speck appears on the horizon. He blinks, and within a few moments, it's gone.

"If they get there before us—" Pieck starts.

"I've got a plan," Zeke states from behind them, his jaw set.

Reiner nods, but the small lifeboat, swinging in the breeze, catches his eye.

 _I'll never be that big brother, not entirely, except in my dreams._

 _But I can be to the one person I'd give anything for. Even if it destroys me._

 _What do the Marlay matter, if I lose Bertolt?_

He remembers their training, the way they screamed at them about the sins of their people. _You carry the stain!_

The sun bleeds into the sky, crimson flowing through orange and gold, deep blue creeping over it all, promising an end to the day. Zeke stands at the helm, his shadow falling over the deck, elongated and distorted. _You keep trying to scrub it away, don't you?_

Reiner excuses himself from dinner early, heading to sleep. He waits until he hears Pieck snoring, and then he removes his boots, sliding onto the deck and padding towards the ladder. The guard is asleep tonight.

Reiner climbs down and down, into the bowels of the ship. He curses himself—he should have thought to bring a bucket of water, something for Bertl.

But all he has is himself, and what he offers.

By the time Reiner gets to the brig, he realizes he doesn't have anything to light a lantern. He stumbles forward, into the dark, groping wildly for the iron bars.

"H-hello?" Bertolt whispers.

"Bertolt?" Reiner keeps his voice low. He wants to scream.

"Reiner!" He doesn't sound entirely displeased, and oh, how that's _wrong_.

 _I am a monster._

"What are you doing here?" Bertolt's breaths come quick, frightened.

"Is your back—"

"It's not too bad."

 _Liar_. Reiner stifles himself. "Bertolt, I'm so—I'm sorry—I lost it, I don't know which one of me is actually me anymore, I don't know who—"

"It's okay, Reiner," Bertolt says, his voice trembling. "I made my own decision."

 _You're strong,_ Reiner realizes. _Much stronger than I realized_. _More than I ever gave you credit for._ "We're about a day—less than, now—west of the island."

Bertolt says nothing. The hull creaks.

"I don't want to be like this anymore," Reiner continues. "I want to be—better than this." _Better than what they've turned us into._

"Reiner, you're—"

"I'm getting you out of here. Take the lifeboat, keep rowing as fast as you can. Get to the island, or to their ship—they won't forget that you let them go, will they?"

"But, Reiner, I almost shot them. I—"

"Forget this home shit," Reiner says, voice hardening. Good grief, it really does smell like rotting fish and stinging salts in here. "You're never going to see it again, but you have to be alive, you understand that? I need you alive." And Reiner takes out the key he swiped from Pieck, reaching down to unlock the brig.

He fumbles into the cell, his hand clasping around a damp wrist. He pulls Bertolt forward, and he doesn't resist as Reiner leads him to the ladder. "I don't have water for you," Reiner says when they get to the deck.

"You're coming with me, right?" For the first time, Reiner can see Bertolt. He hunches over, hideous scars still marring his back. When he faces Reiner, he sees deep circles swelling under his eyes.

"Someone has to let you down," Reiner chokes out, motioning to the skiff.

Horror dawns on Bertolt's face. "They'll kill you!"

"I deserve it."

"No!" Bertolt grabs Reiner's shoulders. "I will stay—I'm not going to let you do this, Reiner!"

"Please," Reiner grinds out, Bertolt's words tearing t him because they're everything Reiner, in his selfish, selfish soul, craved to hear. "Tell the others I'm sorry. That's what I want. That's what I need." A tear stings his eye, and Reiner blinks it away, but he knows Bertolt saw it.

Bertolt grits his teeth. "I'm not leaving without you, Reiner!"

Reiner steps forward, heart pounding. He has to get Bertolt to leave, leave him. He takes in every inch of Bertolt's smooth face, his wide eyes, the way his hair sits on his scalp. "You are," he says firmly, and then he kisses Bertolt on the forehead. _"Please."_

Bertolt gapes at him. "I can't."

"If you ever cared about me as your friend, please do this. If you die, I will die too. If you live I'll die, but I'll be who I want to be." Reiner lets out a gruff laugh. "Don't you ever wonder who we would be, if we hadn't been forced to become murderers?"

The wind whips between them. Bertolt says nothing.

"I am going to save your life, Bertolt. Get in the lifeboat," Reiner orders.

And Bertolt's legs move. He climbs in, looking at Reiner in shock, in a desperate plea, as if he still expects Reiner to climb in beside him. "Slide a rope down!"

Reiner starts lowering the pulleys. Whoever's in the crow's nest will notice soon, unless they're asleep, but Bertolt will be already on his way.

And Reiner won't climb in.

Because as much as he wants it, he doesn't deserve to be whole.

* * *

Marco's shift is almost up. His eyes struggle to stay open as he searches the horizon. The ink of night starts to fade into the deep indigo that hints at the warm dawn to come.

But a strange shape stays black.

 _Is it—?_ Marco leans forward in the crow's nest. He clangs the bell. "Land ho!" His voice cracks, and he shouts it again. " _Land ho!"_

He scrambles down the rigging. "Are you sure?" hollers a voice.

"Jean, why are you awake?" Marco shouts. "Yes, I'm sure!"

"I wanted to bring you some coffee rations," Jean answers, offering him a steaming cup. Marco grasps it, the warmth seeping into his stiff fingers. He hadn't realized he was that cold.

"It's today," Marco says, sucking in the richly-scented steam from the drink. "We'll find out what Eren's father thought could end the war." _What if it can't?_ he frets.

Jean nods. "He and Mikasa were making out again."

"Are you okay with that?" Marco asks, frowning.

Jean casts him a confused look. "Of course? Marco, I'm with _you_. Why are you—"

Marco flushes. "I know, but—" He gulps some of the bitter liquid. "I—I thought maybe you still—"

"I care about Mikasa," Jean says bluntly. "She's my friend, and she's an incredible swordswoman. But Marco, you—"

"Why?" Marco asks. "Why would you choose me?"

Jean's nostrils flare as if he's offended. "Because you're unselfish and balance me out?"

Marco snorts.

"Actually," Jean says, shifting. "You believed in me. When I was—kind of a jerk, and I know I was an opportunistic jerk, Marco, so don't deny it—and also don't repeat this to Eren especially—you seemed to believe that I still was good. You looked at my weak points and thought that they could benefit me, if only I looked at them a certain way, like when you said that my being weak helped me understand how—"

"Okay, okay." Marco's face burns.

"You're feeling weak now, aren't you?" Jean asks.

Marco sighs. "I'm just—I'm not as quick thinking as you are, and I'm not as skilled as several of the others, or as funny as Connie and Sasha, or—"

"You encourage people," Jean says. "You believe in them when they don't believe in themselves. Don't underestimate what that hope can do." He runs his hand through his hair.

"Thanks," Marco mumbles.

"So," Jean says, resting his elbow on Marco's shoulder. "Did you really like me from the moment you saw me? That's what Connie claims you told him."

"I thought you were handsome," Marco jokes. "And then—I saw your potential. And you showed me respect, even though you had no reason to, and you offered me a position on your ship simply because you saw me giving a beggar some money. Usually that's the kind of thing that gets me scoffed at."

"I can see why some people wouldn't think it's wise," Jean says. "But all it said to me was that you cared, and weren't afraid of looking stupid if I needed you to."

"Jean!" Marco's jaw drops.

He makes a sheepish face, and Marco can't help himself. He kisses Jean, wrapping his arms around him. _I love you, flaws and all. No matter what._

And he has hope that Jean feels the same. Jean's fingers dig into his shoulder, and then they hear Levi let out a shout. "What is that?"

"L-land ho, sir," Marco pants, pulling away from Jean.

"No, you brat, that!" Levi points, and Marco peers over the rail to see a small speck.

Levi aims his spyglass at it. "Lifeboat."

"Who?" demands Jean, leaning over the rail.

"No idea." Levi curses. "I don't like this."

Marco frowns as the lifeboat comes closer. Levi disappears, presumably to tell Erwin about the strange skiff. Marco picks up the spyglass. _Is that…_ He gasps.

"Marco?" Jean asks.

"It's Bertolt."

"What?" Jean grabs the spyglass. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm sure." Marco yanks it back. "He's waving something white."

"We should blow him out of the water," says Jean, although his voice wavers. "We have to. We can't—this means Zeke's close—"

"We have to reel him in," Marco says. "He could have valuable information—"

"And he could be a decoy, or—"

"Jean," Marco interrupts, heart pounding as he hopes desperately that he isn't wrong. "We have to give him a chance—we can talk this out." _I have hope for him. Maybe it's stupid, maybe it's worthless and will go nowhere, maybe I am an idiot and nothing more, but we have to try_. "Do you really want to shoot him out of the water?"

Jean's eyes flash. "He could have killed you!"

"He was my friend, too," Marco says. "I'd like to find out which is the real Bertolt." He believes in the goodness of humanity because it's his own rebellion against this cruel, unrelenting world. Maybe it will cost his life someday, but maybe he'll be a better person for it, and maybe, just maybe, the world will be better off.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me!" Levi bellows as he charges back out onto the deck.

"Stop!" Marco jumps in front of that traitor, throwing his arms in the air. Bertolt Hoover crumples to the deck, heaving. Jean runs his hand through his hair as if he's trying to scalp himself.

"Move aside!" Levi demands, yanking out his cutlasses. _I'll slice off his head._

"No!" Marco looks paler than milk, but he isn't moving.

"Are you disobeying my order?" Levi asks. He hears footsteps that mean Erwin's appearing behind him. And there's Hange's shuffle.

"We should hear him out!" Marco protests. "And then decide. He was waving his shirt in surrender—"

"In case you forgot, Marco, honor isn't something this one or his friend know," snarls Levi. "They betrayed us already. They're not above stabbing us in the back." _Especially after those two soldiers abandoned us when we stopped for supplies, the cowards!_

A gasp, and Levi realizes that Annie must be here. She's off to the side, her hand clutching Armin Arlert's. Armin looks devastated to see Bertolt. And there, behind them: Eren and Mikasa, and Sasha with Connie. Eren's face sets in a mask of fury.

"Where's Reiner?" Erwin demands.

"He's—" Bertolt coughs. "Back. He helped me escape—they've probably killed him—he said to say he's sorry, and—" Bertolt pounds the deck, punching hard enough that the kid's got to have splinters in those knuckles.

"He's sorry?" Eren says loudly. "Sorry? It's too late for that!"

 _Finally, some reason_. It's what Kenny taught him and Levi's built upon his whole life— _strike, don't hesitate, don't leave room for regrets._

"It's not my call to make," Erwin says. "I may be captain, but we have our queen here." He steps back, gesturing.

"What?" Bertolt chokes out, looking up to see Historia climbing from the hatch, Ymir beside her. _The kid has no idea,_ Levi realizes. He still thinks she's Christa.

Historia's hands shake, as if she's not used to having peoples' lives in her hands. But she'll have to adjust to it. Levi clenches his hands around his cutlass. "What do we do with this defector? Do we execute him, or do we hear him out?"

Bertolt whimpers. "I don't—please—don't kill me, I—"

" _I don't want to leave you, Levi," Mother rasped, after weeks of coughing until her face was blue and red, like a corpse already rotting, but she still spoke._

"Shouldn't we hear him out?" Historia asks, squeezing her wrists.

"It depends," Levi says. "We're arriving on shore in under two hours. This means Zeke's ship must be nearby, and this one may not have much useful to tell us. He imprisoned your girlfriend and would have killed her."

"I killed his friend once," Ymir says, guilt tearing through her voice. "It's a cruel world. I may not have known what I was doing, but I did it. I know how he feels."

"Maybe he's more than a murderer," Marco says.

"Maybe he's not," Levi says. He remembers passing one of Kenny's victim's family one night, listening to them cry. _"Loathsome murderers!" the father spat, and Levi wanted to shout how he didn't know them at all, how he couldn't say that, how it was unfair._

He catches Hange watching him, a solemn look on her face. He sees Erwin, and remembers what Erwin thinks of himself. His chest tightens. _You're more than just your father's killer._

"Maybe he is," Historia says, and it's as if something releases inside Levi. "And maybe we should find out."

He sags, and it takes a moment before Levi can even sheathe his cutlasses. Bertolt's gasping and crying, and Levi can barely breathe.

A hand clamps around his shoulder. Levi turns to see Hange standing there, looking at Bertolt as she grips him. "Well," Levi says. "Now you get to examine him. Learn more about Marlayan society. I'm sure he's well-versed in it."

"I'm not sure he's well-versed in anything, except following and being afraid," Hange responds.

"His back!" yelps Ymir. "Hange—"

She dashes over, looking to Levi. "We've got to treat him."

Levi nods, unable to look at Eren.

"Historia, you should accompany them," Erwin tells her. Historia and Ymir, her shadow, follow Hange and Levi as they drag the tall boy down towards the med bay. It seems almost distasteful to treat him where they've treated his victims, and yet here they are.

"How did you get these?" Hange asks. "And when? They look old." She washes her hands in a bucket. Levi studies the red welts, swirling like snakes down Bertolt's back.

"I got them for letting Eren and the rest escape," Bertolt whispers.

"Letting us escape?" Ymir snaps. "You almost shot us."

"Really?" Historia looks furious.

"In his defense," Levi grumbles. "He could have, and didn't."

Bertolt shudders as Hange slaps some sort of antiseptic salve onto his wounds. His head hangs low.

"Why would you come to us?" Levi demands. "Why not make for any of the other islands on this archipelago, get away from—"

"I wanted to warn you—or Reiner thought I should—they're coming." Bertolt sucks in his breath. The salve no doubt stings. "And I can't go home anyways. Where else am I going to go? I can't survive on my own."

"Bullshit," Ymir says.

He says nothing. Levi crosses Hange and peers at Bertolt's face. He looks terrified, gray shadows encircling his eyes and his lips pale and gnawed on.

"You want to atone," Ymir says. "As much as you can."

"It's hopeless," Bertolt whispers.

"If you believed that," Ymir says. "You wouldn't be here."

But there's a resigned acceptance in Bertolt's eyes, and Levi hates seeing it because it reminds him of the fatalist look he sees in Erwin's eyes. Acceptance of death, before it even strikes, beaten into them because they believe they deserve it. Of course, this brat does. Erwin doesn't.

 _"What do you want to be?" Erwin asked Levi one night, soon after he joined the crew and the rest of them were getting drunk, telling about their pasts, and Hange looked at him with such sympathy that Levi couldn't stand it._

And Levi knew he didn't want to be a murderer, at least not without a cause, and here was Erwin giving him that chance.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! And enjoy season 2 when it airs this weekend!**


	19. The Sacrifice

"Stay with the ship," Erwin orders most of the crew, including Petra, Oruo, Gunthur, Eld, Mike, and Nanaba. "Fight off anyone who attempts to approach."

 _They might die_ , Historia realizes. _If Zeke shows up…_

"We will," Mike vows, his hand clutching Nanaba's. "We won't let you down."

"You never have," Erwin tells him. The sun beats down on their heads, and yet cold sweat prickles Historia's shoulders. _This could be it._

Erwin, Hange, Historia, Ymir, Armin, and Annie all climb into one skiff. Levi, Mikasa, Eren, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Marco, and Bertolt climb into another. Erwin studies the replacement map. They hit the sandy shore and drag the boats up the beach to protect them from the greedy tide before plunging into the forest. Vines and branches snag Historia's dress and hair, and bugs flit around, drawn to her sweat and the beading blood from a scratch on her arm.

 _If I can end the war, people will surely accept me as queen._

Somehow she can't help but think it's a somewhat naïve assumption. _How brainwashed are they?_

 _Do I have the strength to do what I need to do? He's my father…_

 _He doesn't love you._

 _He's still a human being._

Levi's up in front, hacking at branches and vines with his cutlass, grunting and swearing. Hange keeps gasping at the sight of all these exotic bugs. Ymir slaps a mosquito. Historia pants, because it seems like they're climbing uphill.

Eren looks almost green with fear. Historia remembers his story: that he saw his father dying, that his father made him promise to come here. She gives him an encouraging smile.

Bertolt, hands bound, shuffles along between Jean and Marco. Annie can't so much as look at him.

"The coordinates lead to here," Erwin announces, gesturing up ahead. Historia tromps out of the forest. A beach spreads below the ridge they stand on, a perfect half-moon of sand. Other cliffs, far taller than the ridge they stand on, tower over them, rich brown rocks crowned in emerald.

"Wow," Armin breathes. "It's beautiful."

Jean's jaw hangs open. Sasha gasps, peering at the turquoise waters.

"Guard him," Levi orders, and Sasha and Connie produce their muskets as Bertolt sits on the grass, head lolling in shame. Mikasa, Levi, Jean, and Eren all aim their shovels at the ground. Historia notices that Eren's arms shake.

The spades plunge into the dirt, and Historia grips Ymir's mosquito-splattered hand and waits.

For at least an hour. Sweat drips and the sun glides over the sky, and still they dig.

"What if it's not here?" Connie whispers to Sasha.

"It has to be," Sasha insists.

Mikasa's spade clinks against something first, and everyone freezes.

Everyone lunges towards where Mikasa's digging, shovels working with renewed fervor. Eventually, Mikasa and Eren crouch together, yanking at what looks like a metal box.

"Let me," Levi says as they strain. He grimaces, but manages to yank the box up.

"What's inside?" Jean wonders.

"Eren?" Erwin asks, gesturing. "Do you want to open it?"

"Do we need a key?" Armin wonders.

"No," Mikasa says, studying the latch. "Eren, it should be you."

Historia's heart pounds. Eren kneels, and after a few tugs, the lid comes up with a creak.

Eren blinks. Historia rushes over. _Books?_

"Documents," Marco says.

"Saying what?" Annie asks.

Eren yanks them out, flipping through the yellowed papers. "A Fritz family tree."

 _That's all_? Historia could tear her hair out. _It can't be!_

"It seems like the history of the world," Mikasa muses, tearing through the documents. "Oh wait. Here's a letter." Her jaw falls open.

"Let me see." Eren grabs it, reading out loud. " _The Fritz family, whom everyone assumes to be dead, are not dead… at all."_

"What?" Historia ekes out. Bertolt looks stunned.

"The Reiss family and the Marlayan king plotted to imprison them to keep them from their rightful throne, the Reiss family out of greed and the Marlayans out of a desire to save their people from oppression."

Historia clamps her hand over her mouth, her stomach undulating. "How could we—"

" _They are being kept in a prison in Marlay, and the original letters between the first Reiss king and the Marlayan king are here."_ Eren's voice trembles.

"They are here," Hange confirms, voice low.

"That doesn't make any sense!" erupts Jean. "Why not just exterminate them? Why keep them alive?"

"It seems that thousands of miles across the mountains in Marlay, there's another enemy," Armin reads. "And they have a deal with the Fritzes, but should they no longer exist, the deal for gold would be void."

"And they haven't noticed a goddamn civil war?" Levi snarls.

"No, they have," Armin says. "They aren't that concerned, so long as they continue to work with the Fritzes. Even if they're not in power."

"My father—this is his handwriting," Eren whispers. "He says there is only one Fritz alive today—' _now that my wife is dead'_ —they killed her when she tried to escape!" His fist curls up.

"Where is this prison, and how is this going to end the war?" demands Levi.

"The common people don't take well to being lied to," Erwin muses. "If we can use this as blackmail—we can take it to the printing press; they have no loyalty and might—"

"One of them is _my brother,_ " Eren cries.

"What?" Mikasa erupts.

"Zeke is… a Fritz," Eren whispers. "How can they be using him like that, then?"

"Because his loyalty is entirely to the Marlay," Ymir says simply. "And he doesn't know."

"How do you know?" Eren demands. "Hey, your name's the same as the first Fritz queen's!"

Historia whirls around to stare at Ymir.

"Ah, yes," Ymir says, rolling her eyes. "Except there's not a drop of royal blood in my veins. Or maybe there is, but no one would ever know." She drops to the ground.

Historia gapes at her girlfriend, who looks pale and more scared than Historia could ever have imagined. "What are you talking about?"

"Some Eldians still in Marlay heard rumors," Ymir whispers, covering her cheeks. "They picked a random street child to crown as the long-lost Fritz princess. Me." She snorts. "I'm sure you can imagine that turned out really well. I wound up in prison."

"You didn't tell me?" Historia croaks out.

Ymir drags her finger through the dirt. "And when I was there, I found out who the real heir is. Your brother, Eren. Not that he has any idea, and he wouldn't believe it if you told him, he's got his head so far up the Marlay king's ass. But if the Eldians in Marlay find out, they'd rally around him. The Marlay don't trust him not to fall to power, because they're paranoid and underestimate their own powers of brainwashing."

Levi sinks to the ground in shock. Bertolt gasps, and Annie's eyes fill with tears.

"How is this going to end the war, then?" Eren shouts.

"You need to get through to your brother," Ymir snarls. "He doesn't actually have to be a king. He shouldn't be, anyways; he's not stable enough for that. But he can be used as leverage against the Marlay."

"Bullshit," Mikasa cuts in. Ymir stares at her, tears in her eyes. "That's not possible."

"So we have to capture him?" Historia demands. "That _is_ possible. He's coming after us, after all."

Eren swears.

"Indeed," a voice interrupts. Historia whirls around as the sound of a musket cracks the air.

* * *

"I told you not to touch him!" bellows Zeke. "You _idiot!"_

Pain fills Jean's side. _It's just a graze,_ he tries to tell himself, but it's bleeding terribly. Eren gasps, sprawled on the ground from where Jean pushed him out of the way.

"Jean!" Marco throws himself to the ground, clutching Jean's shoulder. Tears fill Marco's eyes.

"'S not going to kill me," Jean grinds out. _Damn, a graze hurts more than it should._

"You saved my life," Eren whispers.

Mikasa presses against Jean's wound. He sucks in his breath. Marco shrugs out of his shirt, wrapping it around Jean's side.

Hange moves towards him, but Zeke keeps his musket trained on her. "Not another step, doctor."

"Don't you dare threaten her," Levi snarls. "You may be a king by birth, but you're only as much of a ruler as you act like one, and right now you act like a dog."

 _"I'm not a king!"_ Zeke screams. "Those are the delusions of a raving man who lost everything in his stupid rebellion!"

"What were you thinking, Jean?" Marco snap, red-stained fingers trembling.

"Maybe you inspired me a little," Jean mumbles, remembering the way he stepped in front of Bertolt. Speaking of… Jean cranes his neck back. Sasha and Connie stand in front of Bertolt now, legs tensed, muskets trained on Zeke. Annie and Armin keep their swords aimed, glaring.

"Annie, you traitor," Zeke says softly.

She stiffens.

"You're one to talk, Zeke Fritz," Eren shoots back.

"Zeke Jaeger, although that coward's name—"

"Shut up!" Eren bellows. "Don't talk about him that way again! You're the one who took the easy path—"

"Easy?" Zeke explodes. "I—"

"You're not touching any of us," Historia vows, her tiny body standing in front of her girlfriend. "And you're coming with us."

"Bring him out," Zeke orders the group behind him. A dark haired girl jogs off with a blond boy, vanishing into the jungle. Dread seeps through Jean. Another blond boy who strongly resembles the smaller one stands protectively next to a boy who almost looks like Hange, and a blond girl gapes at Zeke as if she can't believe what they overheard.

 _It's working,_ Jean realizes. _You're all Eldians, aren't you? You've all been oppressed—is there still enough of a belief in your own humanity than you could want to end this?_

"Who do you have?" Eren bellows.

"What have you done to my crew?" Erwin demands.

"There are two sides to an island. I haven't done a thing to them." Zeke snorts. "But they're going to die today, just like you."

"You're my brother," Eren spits out. "You can't—"

"So now you want to play that card?" Zeke's eyes flash, and through his haze of agony, Jean can see that Zeke's _hurt_.

"Why are more people dying going to do you any good? Why is that what you want?" Mikasa demands.

"Who are you?" Zeke snaps.

"My girlfriend," Eren says.

"Oh." Zeke's eyes narrow. "Oh, Bertolt. It's nice to see you again."

"You don't get to talk to him," Sasha snarls, and Annie and Armin both raise their swords as if to back her up.

"Go help them get him," Zeke orders a horse-faced man next to him.

"No way!" Jean shouts, struggling to sit up. He collapses as Marco finishes tying the shirt around his ribs.

Horse-Face heads back towards the trees.

"What is it you want?" Erwin asks.

"Oh, so your captain does still have a voice?" Zeke mocks.

Horse-Face returns with the dark-haired girl and the blond boy, both of the kids with their heads lowered and dragging a bound and black-eyed—

" _Reiner!"_ screams Bertolt.

 _Shit_. Jean's stomach turns. Reiner looks as if he's been kicked in the head for hours. He stumbles instead of walking.

"This kid betrayed us," Erwin says calmly. "What makes you think we'd—"

"Look at your crew," Zeke says. "Betrayed or not, these kids are distraught."

"So are yours," Erwin pounds out. The dark-haired girl swallows, and the blond boy ducks his head to avoid his brother's eyes. Although Jean sees no anger in them.

Zeke's lips curl in a sneer.

Jean can't keep his horror off his face. Historia dissolves into tears, and Marco looks as if he'd like to pummel Zeke.

"I'm not sure you understand me," Erwin states. "I don't think that's a weakness."

Zeke levels his sword at Erwin. "Maybe we should let Marlay's best soldier fight Eldia's best soldier—well, _former_ soldier. Or, more accurately, Marlay's best privateer fight Eldia's best pirate."

 _A duel?_ Jean cringes. _Erwin's only got one arm!_

"Fine," Erwin says shortly.

"Erwin, are you stupid?" shouts Hange.

"Terms," Zeke says with a vicious grin. "A duel to the death. Whoever wins gets those documents, and the others' ship with its crew as prisoners."

Erwin sets his jaw. "I agree to the first term, but to the second, I have to—"

"Either that, or we all fight right here," Zeke says. "I'm fine with that."

"Fine," Erwin says.

"There's no way you can win!" Jean shouts. "You'll die!"

"No, he won't," Levi says, dropping his cutlasses as he steps forward and snatches Erwin's sword from his hand.

* * *

Eren can't breathe. Wet grass seeps into his knees. Mikasa keeps her sword straight out, fury in her eyes.

"You issued the challenge to Eldia's strongest pirate," Levi says, sword dangling casually. "That would be me."

Zeke's face turns purple in rage. "I meant—"

"What matters is what you _said_ ," Levi corrects. "Besides, what are you worried for? Can't you see how short I am?"

"Levi—" Erwin starts. A flock of seagulls fly overhead, squawking and shrieking.

"Shut it, Eyebrows." Levi doesn't even look at his captain. "You trust me, don't you?"

"I can—"

"You can," Levi says. "But what he said is that he clearly wants to fight me. And thus, you don't have to."

Zeke grits his teeth. He turns to the man with a horse-like face, who tosses Reiner to the ground like a sack. Reiner groans.

"Do you have to be cruel?" Hange snaps.

"He told us he sent Bertolt to you. He's two people, you know. One side of him is infinitely easier to deal with." Zeke scowls.

 _They say Levi himself challenged Captain Erwin to a duel,_ Eren remembers hearing. _Soon after working with him. He lost, and Erwin showed him mercy. Of course, he had two arms then._

He watches as his brother steps into the spot the hunched man marks. Erwin marks the spot for Levi, leaving about two feet between the edge of their blades.

"Levi," Hange calls.

He looks over his shoulder.

Hange sets her jaw. "Don't lose. Or I'll kill you."

Zeke snorts. Eren struggles to his feet. He can't let his father's work go to this beast. His brother. His father's elder son.

Mikasa's eyes are wide and her lips parted. "I won't let him have the documents," she whispers to Eren. "No matter what. We can still wreak havoc in Eldia and Marlay with them."

Zeke pulls off his spectacles, handing them over to the taller blond boy, who looks as if he's going to be sick.

"En guarde," calls his mule-faced friend—if Zeke's capable of having friends. Eren lets out a gasp as he remembers all the times his father would chastise him for having only Armin as a friend, and later, Mikasa too. _You were afraid I'd turn out like him._

 _But you made him like this, to an extent, didn't you?_

 _You still loved him_.

Somehow, Eren knows its true even though he has no proof, not even the mention of Zeke's name in his father's voice. He narrows his eyes, clenching his fists.

A flash of light as the swords reflect the sun, and then they're battling. Levi attacks viciously, and Zeke matches him. _He must have had some training,_ Eren realizes.

Armin turns to glance at Eren, his eyes wide with fear. Eren nods, taking a step forward as the swords clang and Zeke curses, and Levi spits into the dirt. Historia clutches Ymir; Bertolt's on his feet, eyes wide and lips moving as if in a prayer. Sasha calls out encouragements for Levi; Erwin looks determined.

Zeke's sword slashes at Levi's arm. Blood streams down, and Connie cries out, but Levi forces his blade up, directly into Zeke's shoulder. Eren's brother gasps, stumbling back as Levi yanks the blade out and levies it at him.

Lips curling into a snarl, Zeke swings his blade, but he's unnerved now, and Levi hits his sword arm. The blade crashes to the grass, and Levi waits.

Choking, Zeke pulls it up, but barely even begins to swing before Levi blocks him and cuts his shoulder again. This time, Zeke crumples to the ground with his sword.

"Well?" Levi waits.

Zeke rises one more time, but it's like a bad repeat of the previous time. This time, he collapses, his sword flying over the ridge and sticking in the sand of the beach.

Zeke's face is white. He gapes up at Levi, who glares down at him.

The sword glints ruby red and silver as Levi pulls it up towards the sky, and Eren hears Father's voice again.

" _Promise me…"_

He never asked this, but he would have wanted it. Eren throws himself forward. _"Stop!"_

"Get out of the way, Jaeger," Levi orders. "I'm not killing him. Just taking his legs off so he's less of a threat."

"We need him! And he's my brother!" Eren protests. He can hear Zeke wheezing behind him, can see blood splattering the grass. _"We need him."_

"I'd rather die."

"I don't care what you want," Eren snaps.

"Eren, Levi can do a little more damage and we can still carry him as a prisoner," Armin offers. "He'll be easier to control if—"

 _Armin's usually right,_ Eren reminds himself. And yet—"No. I'm not moving, and don't think I'm doing it for him or because I'm desperate for a family, because I have one." He looks at Armin, at Mikasa, who nods at him, and that is all he needs. "I'm doing it to honor my father. _Our_ father."

"He's nothing to me!" Zeke snarls.

Eren looks down at his brother, a bleeding, broken man. "Would you shut up?"

"These aren't the rules we agreed to!" Zeke shouts. "The Marlay will never—"

"I agree with Eren," Historia says. "I won't be able to save my father; I know it. If he wants to try and save his brother from suffering, he should."

A rush of wind, and then an arm closes around Eren's throat. He gags, struggling to gulp air as the horse-faced man yanks him back. "I'll kill him!"

"So this is how you play?" rants Levi.

"Pieck, stop!" Zeke manages to bellow. "I order you!"

"You're no longer in charge! You've been defeated!"

"He's his brother, Pieck!" screams the small blond boy. The large blonde grabs his brother's shoulder.

"I don't give a shit! I want to get back to my family! I want a normal life!" screams Pieck, and Eren can feel a blade against his cheek, sharp edge scraping. A thin line of blood trickles down the side of his face.

"Who's in your family?" Armin tries to ask, his voice shaking. Annie covers her face behind him, and Mikasa looks frozen, trapped, her sword ready but knowing that, if she takes one step, Pieck will slit Eren's throat.

"Nice try, little negotiator," snarls Pieck. "You played dirty when you came to parley; are you really that surprised when—"

Something crashes into Pieck, throwing him forwards. Eren lurches. The blade flies out of Pieck's hand, and then all Eren sees is green as he smashes into the grass and dirt. The wind whooshes out of him, and he spits blood, tongue throbbing. And then someone grabs him by his arm, nearly yanking his shoulder out of the socket as they drag him away. _Mikasa_.

Eren whirls around to see Reiner pinning Pieck down, and then it's Pieck pinning Reiner down, fists pummeling.

"Oh, hell no," Annie gasps.

"Reiner!" Bertolt rushes forwards, throwing his leg back in a kick that Eren recognizes as one of Annie's moves. Pieck flies off Reiner, and Bertolt slams his fist into Pieck's face. "You are— _never_ —hurting—him—again!

Mikasa charges then, leaving Eren. Her blade stymies the rest of Pieck's struggles. Connie grabs some rope and heads over to tie him and Zeke's wrists. The other kids raise their hands.

"Who are you?" Connie snarls.

"G-Gabi," manages the girl with dark hair. "This is Falco, Colt, Udo, Zofia. We don't want to—to—"

"I am gonna tie your hands," grumbles Connie. "Just in case."

"Bertolt?" croaks out Reiner.

Bertolt rushes to his friend's side, kneeling. "You're okay."

"You—" Reiner looks stunned.

Bertolt drops his face onto Reiner's chest, crying, and something breaks inside Eren. He turns to look at Zeke, refusing to watch those two, and can only pity him.


	20. The Journey

"We have two ships now," Erwin says.

"Yes," Historia says. "Fortunately, we have another captain." She turns to Jean. "Once your wounds are tended to, of course." She crouches in front of Zeke. "When we get to the port in the archipelago next week, you're going to send word to the Marlayan king that the queen of Eldia wants to meet with him."

"You're not the queen," Zeke says, confused.

"She will be," Eren says. "If Marlay can be offered peace in exchange for supporting her claim, won't they—"

"No," Zeke says flatly. "They won't."

"Eldia will rally behind me," Historia says.

"And how exactly do you propose getting my crew not to stab your captain—again—in his sleep?" Zeke demands, grimacing as Hange pushes him through the forest. "Unless you think you can magically put them all in the brig?"

"No," Jean says, hope buoying. Marco smiles at him, and he remembers Marco's words, that Jean would make a good captain. "I think you're going to help with that, as are Bertolt and Reiner. And Gabi, Falco, Colt, Zofia, and Udo. And Levi. We're splitting up your crew with ours, and any mutineers are getting locked in the brig."

Zeke blanches. Levi smirks.

"We'll tell the Marlayan king about your request for a meeting," Jean assures Historia.

"You could die, you know," Ymir says.

"Okay, Ymir," Jean shoots back, enjoying her scowl. "It's a risk, and I'm going to take it." He doesn't want to die. Not at all.

 _But maybe Eren's crazy suicidal tendencies aren't entirely misguided._

"The majority of the Marlayan people still look at the Fritzes as royalty," Ymir says quietly. "Even if he doesn't want to cooperate, once they hear Eldia has him—they'll want to reconsider the war. Those documents have the Fritz seal on them. Most Marlayans still recognize it, and it's hard to replicate."

Armin nods. "If we can alert the newspapers ahead of time that Zeke's alive, complete with the genealogy that proves it, we can incite unrest in Marlay. If Historia is acknowledged as queen and offers the current Marlayan king the condition of peace in exchange for keeping the information quiet, he might accept or face losing his own throne. Eldia will be harder to get to understand, because the Fritzes are more the stuff of legend, but it might at least get some of the right people asking questions—"

"We need Flegel and some of the other people in the trading industry to _talk_ ," Jean growls. "Most of them probably suspect that the king keeps the war going for economic gain—some of them might even have evidence—"

"We can send word from the port in the archipelago," Marco says quickly. "You know, we might even run into some merchants there."

When they arrive back at the bay, Hange insists on treating Jean's wounds first, despite the fact that Pieck's and Zeke's are more severe. "Erwin's gathering you a crew." The antiseptic she pours over his side stings. Jean grits his teeth.

He's almost disappointed. He hoped whatever they found would be more bombastic. But it is what it is.

"You're lucky," Hange says as the overly clean scent sets Jean's nostrils tingling. "Another inch, and it could have seriously wounded you."

"You scared me so badly," Marco adds, peering down at him.

Jean presses his lips together. "But I'm fine."

"Thankfully." Marco looks away for a moment, and his fingers find Jean's, intertwining. "I know it sounds weird to say, but I'm really proud of you."

Jean opens his mouth to tell Marco it doesn't sound weird at all, but no words come. He squeezes Marco's hand, and judging by Marco's slightly blush, it's enough.

 _You have no idea how much you mean to me,_ he wants to say. _You have no idea how much you make me want to be a better version of myself, how your bravery inspires me—I never thought that people mattered so much, until I met you._

He might not say it now, but Jean has hope that he'll have years to say it.

If they survive this last journey.

* * *

"Mike, Nanaba, Oruo, Petra, Sasha, and Connie are all ready to join Jean and Marco," Levi reports. "As am I."

"And Zeke's ready to go with them?" Erwin questions. His crew all accepted his orders to split up without question. They all trust him, something his father shouldn't have done.

 _But today I honored your memory, Father,_ Erwin thinks. It doesn't matter that Levi was the one to take Zeke down. In all Erwin's years in the navy and captaining the _No Regrets_ , he learned that depending on others doesn't make him weak—in contrast, it makes him strong.

"He is," Levi confirms. "Pieck's staying here. He's too dangerous. And Gabi and Falco. I'm sending Colt, Udo, and what's-her-face—Zofia—back over. Splitting up the brothers for insurance of their cooperation."

"Don't die, Levi," is all he says.

"I have no plans to," Levi says quietly. "And neither, I hope, do you."

"I don't," Erwin confirms, turning to face him.

"Good," Mike comments, appearing in the doorway.

Levi scowls. "You better not skip duty to kiss Nanaba."

Mike rolls his eyes. "We'll kiss when we're not on duty, okay?"

"How long has this been going on?" Erwin asks, leaning back against his small table. The sun shines through the windows, the waning, golden light that means nighttime's imminent. "I mean, you both—"

"Awhile," Mike answers.

"Not a satisfactory answer," Levi says. "Not that I care for one."

"If you're worried about Nanaba impeding my ability to do my job," Mike says in a rare display of what's likely to be a full sentence. "She gives me courage, and I give her the same."

"Please tell me that isn't a euphemism," Levi says, grabbing a bottle of rum and turning it in his hands, though he doesn't open it.

Mike's face reddens and Erwin bites back a snort.

"When we're hopeless," Mike says. "Because believe it or not, we both can be sometimes—we remind the other one to keep fighting on. And we're about to see it pay off."

"There are many who won't," Erwin says. Visions of the dead fill his mind.

"Their deaths had meaning," Levi says. "Even if they didn't know it at the time."

 _But do they know it now?_ Erwin wants to cry out like a child. It's a question he would have asked his father, but Father's not here.

Now, he has to make his own choice, and he chooses to believe they do. Erwin swallows. "Levi, you should kiss Hange."

"And get God knows how many diseases? Erwin! I doubt she's brushed her teeth this year!"

"Levi!"

"See you later, Eyebrows." He ducks out.

Mike shrugs. "You tried."

Erwin rubs the back of his head. Yes, he tried. Despite how Levi might try to deny it, he admires Hange, and she offers a zest to life that Levi needs.

"What do you think our odds of success are?" Mike asks.

Erwin lifts his shoulders. "Failure isn't an option."

 _I'll make you proud, Father, no matter what._

* * *

"We're going back as traitors," Bertolt whispers. The ship creaks and rocks as they set out to sea, separated from the other prisoners for their own safety.

Reiner still can't face him. He curls up in the small cabin they've been locked in.

"Historia says she'll negotiate for our families, though," Bertolt adds.

Reiner could laugh. Of course, now Bertolt is comforting him. He's the weak one, here. Tears slide down Reiner's face.

"Reiner," Bertolt tries. "We're alive. We have—we have a chance."

Reiner feels Bertolt's hand on his shoulder, and Reiner drags his arm off of his eyes. Light blasts his vision, even if it's dim from the lantern. Bertolt peers down at him, face twisted in concern. "What if I snap back?"

Bertolt swallows.

"There are two of me," Reiner croaks out. "I don't know which one is really me."

"They both are," Bertolt offers. "Maybe."

"All this time I pretended to be strong—and it broke me." Reiner's throat aches from represses sobs. He punches the deck, wishing he had the nerve to use enough force to shatter his bones. But he's a coward.

"It's okay," Bertolt encourages him, hand squeezing his shoulder. "Please don't, Reiner, please—don't hurt yourself."

"Don't we both deserve it?"

Bertolt's face crumples. "Maybe."

"But Historia says otherwise?" Reiner asks.

He shrugs. "She doesn't want to imprison us." Bertolt shifts, as if kneeling's hurting his knees. "And you're the one who almost—you almost died, Reiner, saving Eren. You didn't have to do that."

Reiner gulps. Sweat slicks his palms. "Yes, I did." Because in that moment he saw Eren's smiles, his foolish determination, and beyond that, his heart. He was willing to die for his brother even though his brother was his enemy, and Reiner wasn't even willing to die for his former friend—his love, yes, but not his friend. And he knew that if Eren's blood spilled on the ground, he would break and keep breaking until he had disintegrated completely.

"We'll never go home again," Reiner says again. "You know that, right? All that you've worked for—all that you want—"

Bertolt nods, tears streaming down his face.

"I—I'm sorry," Reiner manages, pulling himself into a sitting position. "I didn't mean to make you—"

"You're still here, though," Bertolt says.

Reiner blinks.

"I've spent more time with you than I ever have at home," Bertolt offers, wringing his hands now. "Maybe—you're home to me."

Reiner's heart picks up pace. Blood warms his cheeks, his hands. He bites his lip.

"I don't care that you're two people," Bertolt tells him. "I don't care that your mind is—is—weak. I've been weak, too—spent most of my life weak, and you've always been there for me, you've liked me anyways; why would you think I wouldn't like you? You're—you're—"

"I think too much of myself?" Reiner says.

Bertolt almost smiles. "Maybe."

"Bertolt, I—"

"Ymir told me, Reiner," Bertolt cuts him off.

 _Told you that I'm sorry again for sending you off on your own?_ Reiner frowns. "Huh?"

"That you—" Bertolt grabs his skull with one hand. "That you _like_ me. Like Jean and Marco like each other."

 _Ymir, I'm going to have to kill you_. Reiner's jaw hangs open. "Um—I—"

Bertolt suddenly grabs Reiner's face and pulls it towards him. His fingers press the bruise on his jaw, but Reiner doesn't care. And now that their lips are so close, Bertolt hesitates. "Reiner, I—"

He waits. Earlier his heart was pounding; now, it's gone completely still. _Am I even still alive?_

"I want you to kiss me," Bertolt ekes out. "I can't—when I thought they must have killed you—I couldn't—you are so important to me and I—"

Reiner wants to hear more of these words, eclipsing any phrases Reiner's ever dreamed about, pour from Bertolt's mouth, but he can also see the sweat on Bertolt's forehead, the fact that he's still scared, still not quite sure that Reiner—

 _I would never, ever reject you._ And Bertolt—he has all the reasons in the world to reject Reiner, and he still wants him. He leans in and kisses Bertolt, and it's quicker than he imagined and their teeth clack against each other, but they both laugh, and Bertolt looks at him with a look Reiner's seen on his face only once or twice before.

He's at peace.

And Reiner dives in again, sinking his lips into Bertolt's.

"Why didn't you—tell me earlier?" Bertolt gasps out.

"I thought you would be uncomfortable," Reiner admits, pulling away, their foreheads resting together.

"We can atone," Bertolt ekes out. "Together?"

"We can," Reiner promises, because more than anything, he wants Bertolt to be able to sleep at night with that same peaceful look on his face.

* * *

"Honestly, this town is so much better now that I know not so many people are waiting to abduct me," Eren comments as they carry giant bags of rice and flour back towards their ships. So far, so good on Jean's ship, according to Connie and Sasha. Zeke will recover, although Eren's still not sure what to do with him.

Annie jogs away from a small vendor selling molasses treats. She hands one to Armin and pockets two more.

"Saving them for later?" Eren teases.

"I thought about bringing them to Reiner and Bertolt," Annie says, avoiding his eyes. "Since we're not all that different."

"That's kind of you," Historia says as she slips up to them, dragging a bucket of water. Ymir stayed on the ship.

"They'll be all right," Armin says. "They're going to—" He freezes.

"Armin?" Mikasa asks.

"What're you up to?" Eren asks, huffing as he shifts the bags onto his hips. "We have to—"

"Are you listening to this?' Armin hisses, jabbing Annie with his elbow. Eren catches sight of two heavy-set men, one bald and one with graying hair, bickering.

"—I heard it! And let's be honest, Emmett, the Rod Reiss has never given two shits about us. Why is it so hard to believe he might be profiting from the war? And you know who told me this? Hermann. Hermann doesn't lie, Emmett, and you know it!"

"What are you talking about?" Eren blurts out. Mikasa slides her eyes to him.

"Haven't you heard?" asks the balding one. "The merchants are revolting, telling everyone that that Zackley character is in league with the Marlay, and that the king cares more about gold than he does about us!"

"It's true," Eren says. Historia shrinks.

"We've also heard he set up that legendary pirate, that he was actually loyal to Eldia and trying to end the war—and he kept attacking his own fleet!" adds the graying one. "That can't be true—"

"Rumor has it the king has a daughter who will vouch for all of this, after she ends the war," says the bald one. "All the merchants believe it, Emmett, so—"

"It's true," Eren repeats. "We are—we're sailing with her. The daughter. The queen."

"I'm Historia Reiss," she says, stepping forward. Her hair's done in a plait, but her eyes glitter, and for the first time, to Eren, she really does seem like a queen. "We're leaving for Marlay tonight."

"You're too small—" starts the graying one.

"She looks just like Princess Frieda!" shouts the bald one. "Everyone! Our queen is here! Queen Historia, going to save Eldia or die trying!" He looks up at her, eyes fierce. "I'd love to help you. There are lots of us who will join you. Doing what you're doing—that's the kind of leader Eldia's needed these last hundred years."

"What's your name?" Historia asks. Men, woman, and children gather around them. Eren cringes.

"Sal."

"Well, Sal, I will reward you for your faithfulness when we return to Sina," Historia says. "I will invite you to my coronation. In the meantime, if you wish to help me, you can help me—here."

"How so?" Sal asks eagerly. Marcus gapes.

"Spread the word." Historia straightens her back. "That Queen Historia is here, and I will end this war no matter what it costs me."

"Who are they?" Marcus manages to ask, nodding at Armin, Annie, Mikasa, and Eren.

"Them?" Historia blinks. "They're my friends."

"Not your guards?"

"We are her guards," Armin affirms, straightening. " _And_ her friends."

* * *

"How did everyone find out?" Armin wonders when they're back on the ship. Practically the entire town came out to kneel before Historia. Eren smiles as he takes a sip of tea.

"Isn't it obvious?" Annie asks, drumming her fingers.

"No," Mikasa states.

Annie smirks. "Hitch and Marlowe."

Eren's jaw falls. "They—"

"I thought they deserted us as well," Annie admits, studying her teacup. "But I think instead—maybe they went to ensure Historia wound take the throne."

"And Flegel," Armin realizes. "He must have helped."

Annie casts him a small smile.

"You seem more optimistic about people," Eren comments.

Annie shrugs. She leans back against Armin's shoulder.

"You're worried about your father," Armin says.

Annie hesitates, and then nods. She chugs more of her tea.

Armin reaches out and caresses her face, drawing her chin up.

 _Will we ever not be worried about our loved ones?_ Eren wonders. He rises. "I'll leave you two alone."

Annie glares at him for his insinuations, but Eren just smirks. Mikasa follows him out.

"Are you worried about Zeke?"

"No." Eren halts, pressing his fist against the ladder. "I'm worried about— _my_ father. I don't know—I don't know what he would have me do—I don't know if my image of him is the right one, or Zeke's is, and—"

"Zeke's a liar," Mikasa says. "His perspective is clouded."

"Is my perspective messed up as well?" Eren whispers.

Shadows crisscross over Mikasa's face. She takes a step forward, her hands on his shoulders. "Probably."

Eren gulps. His thoughts whir. "So—"

"So," Mikasa says as she pushes past him, climbing down the ladder and into the empty hold. "They were both your father."

"If you're trying to say he's like Reiner—"

"I'm not, but maybe he's like Annie was, or Bertolt," Mikasa says. "Maybe—he's got more than one side to him, and he changed, and once he was the person Zeke hates, and he grew into the man you love."

Eren stares at her. She offers a small smile, taking off her sword and casting it onto her hammock.

And Eren can't help himself. He throws his arms around her, mouth entwining with hers. _I love you._ He doesn't know how to say it, but judging by Mikasa's gasps, by the watery look in her eyes, she knows.

Eren kisses her neck, over her pulse and down towards her shoulders. She wraps her arms around him, and her legs around his waist, and he understands. She trusts him implicitly, like he trusts her. She knows he would never intentionally hurt her— _except I did, multiple times. I said some really careless things—_ even if he hadn't wanted to hurt her, he knew he would and that hadn't stopped him—

Her words about his father float back into Eren's mind: _he's got more than one side to him._

He's lying on top of her right now, his fingers roving under her shirt. _You've seen the uglier side of me, and you still love me. You still believe in me._ He pulls up, looking down at her soft hair, the way her lips lie open and the smile in her eyes.

 _You're the hero I want to be, Mikasa._

* * *

"I'm afraid," Ymir says.

It's night, and no lanterns are lit. Connie snores in the background. She and Historia lie in the same hammock, pressed against each other. They'll arrive in Marlay within a few days, and she's terrified that something will go wrong and she'll have to leave without Historia, and even more irrationally, that Historia will leave without her. Because she's a queen, and Ymir can't come first.

"I understand," Historia murmurs, her head pressed against Ymir's chest. "But I can do this."

"You'd gonna be a great queen."

Historia snorts. "We'd be better. Stronger. Together."

Ymir remembers her escape from the small fortress she was kept after her arrest. She didn't care what those zealots had made her. She only knew she wanted to live her own life, instead of wasting it pleasing others for whom there was no pleasing, because someone else's desperation had marked her.

 _And I became a murderer._ Bertolt said his name was Marcel. Ymir closes her eyes.

"Ymir." Historia shifts, craning her neck to peer up into her eyes. "No matter what you're thinking, and no matter what you've done, and no matter what happens, I love you."

Ymir's heart aches. She wraps her arms around Historia, pulling her closer.

"I mean it," Historia adds, her voice muffled against Ymir's shoulder. "I want to marry you."

Ymir can't help but laugh. "No—it's not that, Historia!" she says as Historia stiffens. "It's just—I never would have guessed the girl I first met on the street would be so bold."

"Oh." Historia smirks. "Well, I'm afraid too, Ymir."

The smile vanishes from Ymir's face.

"But I feel strong, with you, and with everyone here. My country's even behind me now, or so it sounds," she adds.

"As they should be," Ymir declares. She rests her chin on top of Historia's head. _I wish I could protect you from what's coming._

 _But I can't, and that's okay too. You're more than capable of facing it._

 _And I'll face it with you, because I love you._


	21. The Fleet

"Ship ho!" bellows Oruo.

Jean frowns, taking out a spyglass. Through the gray of the morning mist, he makes out a distinct shape.

This close to enemy territory, it's got to be Marlayan. "Raise the black flag," Jean barks. The flag for parley. Glancing aft through the spyglass, he sees Erwin's ship raising the same flag. "Get Zeke," he orders Marco. The wind slaps his face as he clutches the helm. _This is it._

"I'll prepare the cannons, Captain," Petra shouts, her red hair flapping.

Jean nods, although he prays they won't have to use them. If they start firing on the Marlay, even if the Marlay are trying to sink them, Jean's not sure he can count on the rest of the crew—already only tenuously supporting him—to stay loyal. "Don't fire without my command."

"We won't," she promises. Oruo shimmies down the rigging and darts after her.

The ship looms closer and closer. Jean's heart pounds in his chest, and his graze wound, mostly healed, throbs anew.

 _I wanted a safe, comfortable life._

He spots Marco scurrying across the deck below, dragging a bound Zeke. _That would have been boring._

Marco appears, panting, at the helm. Zeke scowls. "They'll blow you out of the water."

"Maybe," Jean responds.

"You can't negotiate with someone who's already winning," Zeke adds.

Jean's fist curls. _Don't punch him. Do not do it_. "Are they winning? Without you? They'll have nothing."

Zeke spits on the deck.

"Don't you want to live?" Marco asks. "Don't you want to see your brother again?"

"My brother, who hates me?"

"Who also saved your pathetic life," Jean snaps. "Look, I hate Eren and I hate you. But he doesn't hate you. You're too human."

"You do not hate Eren, Jean," Marco corrects. "You saved his life."

"Goddammit, Marco!" He scowls and peers out at the horizon. _We don't have enough ships,_ Jean thinks. _If there's a battle, we're all going to die—and Eldia will die with us._

Zeke laughs, as if he knows exactly what Jean's thinking and it's humorous to him. Jean shouldn't be surprised given that this is the man who turned in his own parents, but he still could smack the man.

"That's not a Marlayan ship, though," Marco breathes, peering through the spyglass.

"Huh?" Jean turns.

"It's an Eldian merchant ship."

"What the hell would it be doing so close to—" _This doesn't make any sense!_

"Jean," Marco says. "Jean, look." He passes him the spyglass.

It's an entire fleet.

* * *

Zeke's mouth still hangs open hours later, when Flegel joins Historia, Erwin, Jean, the bald naval captain who arrested them earlier—whose name turns out to be Pixis—and about a dozen other captains as well.

"This is all because of Hitch and Marlowe?" Historia asks.

Pixis smiles at her in an almost fatherly sense. "Not entirely. As it turns out, Kenny Ackerman left several incriminating documents behind at his house, which Rico, my first mate, discovered after he passed. Then Nile Dok turned on Zackley, and Zackley squealed. Nile's governing for now, but the kingdom is yours, Historia."

Historia looks as if she's about to faint. Jean rubs his skull again and again, and Levi just looks stunned.

"We'll guard you," Pixis says. "We'll send three ships ahead—mine, Jean's, and Ian's—and wait to hear from the Marlay. We've loaded those ships with grains and gold as goodwill gifts, so if the Marlay know what's good for them, they'll listen. All our sources indicate they don't have a lot of resources, and the Eastern nations have been threatening them for skimping on their trade deals. It's in their best interest to want to end this war as soon as possible."

Jean swallows.

"And they ought to send their own fleet out to meet us. You shouldn't go into their own territory, Historia."

"I think that's a good plan," Erwin cuts in.

 _So we're still risking our lives,_ Jean realizes. _But not for nothing. No matter what,_ _Historia has the throne. We have hope._

He still hopes he's able to return to see Historia and the rest of his friends again.

* * *

Four days pass, and with each rise and fall of the sun, Historia starts to lose hope.

But on the fifth day, the bell clangs and she scrambles onto the deck. "Ship ho!"

All three of their ships are heading back to them. Ymir clutches Historia's hand.

"Fire!" Erwin bellows, and their ship shoots a warning shot across their bow. They previously agreed that, should they fire a warning shot and one not be returned, it would serve as a sign that all was well, and their ships had not been taken over by Marlay.

Historia waits with bated breath. Her fingers dig into the rail.

The beast ship doesn't fire back. A sob claws up Historia's throat. She throws her arms around Ymir as Jean sails closer.

Even Eren grins as Jean swings over to their ship, landing on the deck with a thud. "Your brother's still alive and as miserable as ever," he blurts out.

Eren sags in relief. Historia thinks of her father, supposedly rotting in a prison cell awaiting trial. _Do I have to carry it out? Can I just leave him there?_

"Historia," Jean says. "They want to meet at this location." He draws out a scroll, unfurling it and pointing to a nearby coordinate. "Just one of your ships, and one of their ships. The king will come and negotiate himself."

"Only one ship?" Ymir snaps. "That's not enough protection!"

"How do we know they'll keep their word?" demands Mikasa.

"They let him live," Armin says quietly. "If they were planning on killing us all, they should have killed them and sailed back to us in disguise."

"When?' Erwin asks simply.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

"You're not going to meet the Marlay looking like a common pirate," Ymir snaps.

Historia flinches. "It's not as if I have a choice."

"Yes, you do," calls Armin. "Rico dropped this off for you." He holds out what looks like a lump of purple satin.

Historia reaches for it. _I'm a queen, and now I'm supposed to dress like one?_

She doesn't much like the idea of dressing above her friends.

"I could do your hair," Annie offers. "If you want." She flicks her fingernails, as if she expects Historia to refuse. Historia knows Annie and Armin have both been visiting Reiner and Bertolt. Personally, she's glad about it.

"Okay," Historia says. "I'd like that."

"Men out," Mikasa orders, gripping her sword.

"The hell?" Eren gapes.

"Eren, just because you've seen one girl naked doesn't mean you can see them all," Ymir says dryly.

Eren glowers at her. "Don't—"

"Out!" Mikasa hisses, jabbing him with her elbow.

One very cold bath later, and Historia's wearing the violet dress, which is a little large for her but usable. "I wish Sasha were here," she muses as Annie drags a brush through her now-wet hair.

"Have you thought about what happens?" Ymir asks. "All of you? Once we get back to Sina and Historia has her coronation?"

"You're marrying her, aren't you?" Annie asks as her fingers weave through Historia's hair.

"Yes," Historia says firmly. "She is." She hesitates. "And I'd like the rest of you to stay around. You're my—the closest thing I ever had to family."

Mikasa meets her eyes, and in them, Historia almost sees a sister. She smiles, and Mikasa smiles back.

"What about me?" Annie asks softly. "It's not fair that Reiner and Bertolt will be tried and I won't be."

"Good grief, Annie, don't ask to be put in that fortress," complains Ymir.

"It didn't seem like a nice place," Historia admits. "And no, Annie. I'm pardoning you. And Reiner, and Bertolt. And to be fair, Gabi, Falco, and the rest of them if they want to come to Eldia. If not, I'll let them go back to Marlay. You were all just kids."

Annie's fingers still. "You are?"

"Of course."

"I'm not sure that's the wisest—"

"Neither am I, but Erwin thinks I can get away with it."

"That is not a sentence I want to hear my leader saying," Ymir grumbles. Historia kicks her in the shin. "Ouch!"

"I'd actually like to have you and Armin stay nearby," Historia says. "And Eren and Mikasa, too. As members of my guard, or advisors, and depending on how these negotiations turn out, maybe you'd be given a mission or two, but—"

"Really?" Mikasa asks, her eyes shining. "I'd—like that."

"I think Armin would like it," Annie says.

"And you?"

"There's no ruler I'd rather serve," Annie says. "But I'm tired."

Historia blinks. "If you don't want to, you are more than welcome to do some other work. I'm thinking of starting an orphanage—"

"What about a place for stray animals?" Annie questions. She ties something in Historia's hair.

"That would be wonderful," Historia says. "Annie, you're in charge of that."

"What?" Annie laughs. It's a surprisingly girlish sound. Ymir looks at Historia as if she's proud of her.

"I mean it."

"Your hair's done."

Mikasa pulls out a small mirror, handing it over. Historia examines the intricate braiding and bun. "Never mind. You're in charge of my hair."

They all laugh.

* * *

"It's not that simple," the Marlayan king snaps. "If we free our Eldians, the Marlayan people will kill them. And if they all go with you, well, you're asking people to leave the homes they've lived in all their lives. They won't want to."

Armin sits next to Annie, listening to the king debate with the queen.

"We want Zeke."

"I can't give you that," Historia says with authority. "Zeke is a danger to my people. We plan to lock him up, and you'll never have to hear about the Fritzes again."

She's handling everything quite well so far, Armin thinks. She's been calm, and Erwin's been supplying her with advice.

"Someday that might be you," Annie hisses in his ear. "Giving advice to royalty."

Armin's heart leaps. It's a dream of his. "Maybe. But in truth I've got a lot to learn."

"We've got time," Annie whispers, as if she almost can't believe it.

"And the rest of my soldiers?" the Marlayan king demands.

"I will release them to return to you, should they wish to. Eldians who want to journey to Eldia are, of course, welcome." Historia sounds as if she thinks most of them will stay, but Armin doubts it. "Zeke is the exception. For the crimes he's committed, we want him. And I'm going to have to ask for the families of three in particular: the Brauns, Hoovers, and Leonharts."

"That Kirchstein character told me you'd say that." The king, a heavyset fellow with a long, graying beard, reclines in his chair. "The Hoovers and the Brauns refused to come."

Armin inhales sharply, looking at Annie. Her eyes grow wide.

"Mr. Leonhart, however, is on my ship."

"S—are you willing to have him meet with her?" Historia questions. "His daughter is here with us." She gestures to Annie.

The king's eyes are suddenly on her, and Annie almost appears to shrink. Armin clutches her hand. _You can do this. You're strong._

"Yes," the king answers. "I am." He gestures to a member of his guard, who moves to leave the cabin.

Annie rises, gripping Armin's hand as if she wants to break it. She pulls him onto the deck. Seabirds swoop and dive, calling to each other. Armin can barely breathe. Annie trembles.

 _Are you scared he'll reject you?_ Armin wonders. The little she's told him about her father hasn't been pleasant.

But he's still her father.

Like Zeke is still Eren's brother.

Armin remembers his grandfather. A lump grows in his throat.

" _I wanted to return to him so much," Annie said. "But I don't even know why."_

"Annie!"

A thin man races across the deck. His shabby clothes hang off him, held together by patches. He throws his arms around her. Armin steps back, watching as Annie keeps her arms by her side. "I thought—they told me you were captured!"

Annie blinks. "Cap—? No. I—I've joined Eldia, and there's a future there, after all—they have a wonderful new queen, who's my friend, and—" Annie's voice cracks.

"So it's true you're a traitor?" snaps a Marlayan guard.

Armin jumps in front of Annie. None of them were allowed to have weapons, but he'll throw his fist in that man's face if he has to.

"Back off, little Eldian," the guard says, rolling his eyes.

" _We all have to grow up, and make different choices," Armin said to Annie last night, when she asked him how her reputation might affect his ambitions. "I don't care. I'd rather have people than status, and if that upsets people I can handle it." He thought of himself, how he feared Eren and Mikasa would hate him for relying on Annie. "But sometimes, people surprise you."_

"I wouldn't taunt him," Annie warns. "He may be small but he's smarter than anyone on board."

"Watch your tongue!"

Mr. Leonhart grips Annie, shaking his head. "What are you—"

"You asked me to forgive you, for sending me off to be a warrior," Annie says. "Now I'm asking you to forgive me, because I couldn't do it in the end." Her voice breaks. "Maybe Eldia's future won't be long, maybe it will be, but if it isn't, I'll be happy there. I can be a good person there, and there are people who care to help me, because no one ever did in Marlay."

Mr. Leonhart's eyes flit to Armin. His face burns.

"If you want to join me— _us_ ," Annie says, swallowing. "You can." She steps back and takes Armin's hand. "If you ever were really sorry, act on it now. Don't just leave me with your words."

Armin waits, breath held. The sun bakes his hair.

"I—I love you, Annie, but—"

"Mr. Leonhart, you seems to be a man for whom the end justifies the means," Armin cuts in. "I think the same way, a lot of the time, but this journey we've been on—but if I've learned anything, I know now that life isn't that simple. Not when the means are lives like Annie. She had a nightmare last night, do you know that? I think she has them a lot." She woke up covered in sweat, stiff as a board, and Armin could only hold her, press her face against his chest until her stifled sobs dissipated and she drifted back to sleep, though he stayed awake long after.

"Armin!" Annie glares at him.

"She's worth so much to me," Armin says. "I know you don't know what Eldia is like, and I can't tell you it's a wonderful place—at least not in my experience. But I can tell you Annie will be there, with me, and isn't that enough?"

" _Armin," Annie said to him when he apologized for how he couldn't fix her fear. "You are never useless."_

* * *

The door to their cabin flies open. Bertolt and Reiner both jump to their feet.

Eren and Mikasa stand there. "They want you on deck," Eren says. "To prove you're alive."

Hope sparks inside Bertolt. "Our families—"

"They didn't come," Mikasa says quietly, her gaze on her scuffed boots.

Bertolt always knew this would be the case, but still, he sucks in his breath as a stab of pain cuts through his lungs. Eren's eyes follow Reiner's hand as it moves from covering his eyes to Bertolt's shoulder.

"Historia has an agreement to let Eldians leave if they want to. That, and a temporary two-month-long ceasefire," Eren adds.

"That's all?" It's progress, but it's still a blow. _I'm a fool, still taken in by fairy-tales,_ Bertolt thinks. And he knows his family won't want to come. Ever.

 _And I'll never set foot in Marlay again._

"You two can leave," Mikasa says. "If you want to go back to Marlay. We can't guarantee your safety there, of course, but Historia pardoned you. That's what they're going to ask you about—where you want to go."

Eren glances at them both, his face impassive.

 _I don't want to go back._

 _I never could_ , Bertolt realizes. All those nights in training, when he envisioned the small house his family stayed in, tried to picture his mother cooking something, pictured himself slipping back in there as if he'd never left— _it was never going to happen. Not like that._

The sunlight invades his sight, blinding him momentarily. He hears Reiner's breaths behind him.

"Grab on," Eren instructs. He grasps a rope, and grasps Bertolt. Mikasa takes Reiner, and they swing over to the deck. Bertolt lands with a thud.

 _Annie and—her father? It must be,_ Bertolt thinks. Armin stands with them.

"See?" Historia asks. "They are alive, and unharmed."

"Did they harm you?" The Marlayan king's addressing him.

Bertolt swallows, and kneels along with Reiner. "No."

"They are my subjects."

"They are Eldians, and you don't want them as your subjects," Historia says. "We've already established this."

"Very well." The Marlayan king nods.

 _She didn't tell,_ Bertolt realizes as he looks to Reiner, whose mouth opens in shock. _She's really giving us a choice here._ If the king doesn't know that they betrayed the Marlay, they might have a chance—no, someone will tell.

But even so, Bertolt appreciates it. There's no animosity marring Historia's face as she looks down at him and Reiner.

"We're staying," Reiner croaks out. "With the Eldians."

Bertolt's heart almost bursts in his chest. _To the king?_

The king snorts. "Fine." He turns to Historia. "Two months?"

"Two months," she confirms. "You will take the majority of Zeke's crew—all the Marlayans. Since Bertolt and Reiner wish to stay, that means all the Eldians are coming with us, albeit Zeke and Pieck as prisoners. Jean Kirchstein and the rest of the Eldians are vacating the Marlayan ship they took."

Pieck glowers at them from between Erwin and Ymir, both of who look as if they'd like to be rid of him. A gag lines his mouth.

"Let's go." Historia strides towards the edge of the deck. Ymir and Erwin follow. Eren grabs Bertolt again, and he's back on the still unnamed ship that, according to Ymir, they had lent to them from a merchant.

 _This is it._ Bertolt nods at Colt, Gabi, Falco, Udo, and Zofia. They look as terrified as Bertolt feels. Colt clutches Falco's shoulders; Falco holds Gabi's hand. Udo cries, tears streaming down his face, and yet he still chose to go. He wipes his glasses on his shirt.

 _Goodbye, Marlay._

Bertolt turns to Eren, ready to ask if they should just head back down to their cabin, when a crack splits the air.

A gunshot.

Bertolt throws himself down, hands flying up.

A splash echoes.

 _"Erwin!"_ screams Eren, rushing towards the rail. Across, on board the Marlayan ship, Bertolt sees two Marlayan guards wrestling Pieck down. Historia stumbles, as if she's going to faint. Mikasa has her sword out, ready to protect her queen, and Reiner too—Reiner adopts a protective stance, in front of Historia.

Bertolt hurtles towards the rail, looking down at the water. Ripples and something magenta spill across the surface. _Where is Levi?_

"I'll go in," Armin shouts, tearing for the rail, and Bertolt can't let him do it—Armin probably barely knows how to swim, if at all.

"I can do it," Bertolt yells. The wind steals his words, and Annie's rushing as if she's about to jump in, too.

Bertolt doesn't have time to speak again. He dives in.


	22. The Queen

"What the hell was that?" Levi demands as he storms out of the hatch. Historia, Ymir, Mikasa, and the Braun brat are still on the Marlayan ship, and that piece of shit Pieck is being forced down.

"For his offense," Levi hears the Marlayan king shouting, and then the wind howls, removing the rest of the words. But it doesn't matter. The sword surges towards the sky and plunges down. Historia's hand covers her mouth, but she doesn't so much as flinch. _Good_ , Levi thinks.

Levi's breath stalls as he takes in Eren, scrambling to grab more ropes, and Armin and Annie, peering over the edge. "The hell is going on?"

 _And where is Erwin?_

"They shot him!" Annie cries out, tears streaming down her face. "As he came back over—he grabbed—he shot—"

Levi doesn't think twice. He takes a flying leap towards the rail.

And halts. The other brat—Hoover—surfaces, Erwin's head bobbing beside him. Gasping, Bertolt cranes his neck up and holds his hands for a rope.

"Shit!" Eren pants. "It's not long enough!"

"This one is!" Armin shouts as more people spill onto the deck. Cries of "betrayal!" and "liars!" erupt.

"No!" bellows Historia, loud enough to silence them. She grabs her own rope, nods at the Marlayan king, and swings back over to the Eldian ship. Reiner, Mikasa, and Ymir follow.

Levi peers down at the swirling sea between the ships. Bertolt grabs the rope, twisting it around himself and around Erwin. Erwin looks limp, and mahogany blooms, distorting the azure of the bay.

"Pull!" shouts Armin, and Levi rushes to join them as they yank the ropes. It burns his hands, and the blisters are a welcome relief because they tell him he's trying, he'll do whatever it takes, whatever it costs him—

With a splat, Bertolt and Erwin land on the deck. Blood immediately pools over the wood, mixing with seawater. Bertolt falls backwards, coughing.

"Out of my way!" Hange shouts, pushing her way through the crowd.

"Raise the Eldian flag," Historia orders someone else. "That'll send the signal to the rest of the fleet. We're done for today."

Levi reaches Erwin first, dropping to his knees. The blood pours from a wound in his side— _if it hit his liver—_ everything smells of salt, and his breaths come too quick, choppy after having been in the water—

"Help me get him to the med bay," Hange commands, her hand slapping his shoulder. "Now, Levi! Moblit, come help me! Petra, you too!"

Levi grunts, carrying Erwin by his shoulders. Moblit grabs his ankles, and together they hustle him down the hatch. Hange flies ahead, and as they arrive in the med bay, Levi hears clangs as Hange rips through her cabinets, tearing out various instruments.

"Set him down on the table! Moblit—"

"I know what to do!" Moblit curls his fist and pounds on Erwin's sternum. Erwin spits up water, moaning.

"Erwin," Levi says, grasping his arm. "You have to stay, okay? Please, please stay."

"Levi, get out," Hange orders as Petra scrubs her hands clean. Hange holds up a scalpel, glinting in the lantern light.

"Hange," Levi says, frozen. "Please—you have—"

"I mean it, Levi. You need to get _out_." Tears bead Hange's eyes, and she blinks them away.

He slips away from the table, away from the man who saved his life in so many ways, and pause only to grasp Hange by the shoulder. "I know you can save him."

She blinks behind her spectacles, her brown eyes vulnerable as well as determined. "Only if you get out."

* * *

Eren helps Bertolt to his feet. Everyone surrounded them gapes. Blood smears the deck, and Eren gulps the salty air, trying to still his trembling hands.

"I thought you—" Reiner squeezes Bertolt in an embrace. "I'm just—you're okay."

 _He just helped save Erwin._

"Clean up the blood," Mike order gruffly. He turns away, marching toward the helm. "Lift the anchor!"

Marco, Sasha, and Connie run off to help with that. Annie crouches on the deck, her hand over her mouth as Mikasa heads away. The sun blazes around Eren, deepening into crimson-tinted light, and he feels as if he's drowning in it.

"Annie," Armin says softly, jolting Eren from his reverie. Armin wraps his arms around Annie. Her father stands behind her, brow furrowed as he watched Armin and his daughter.

"We're never going to be completely safe," Annie chokes out. "Even if—Historia does manage to procure a peace treaty—we're still—"

Mikasa returns, hauling a bucket of water, which she dumps on the deck, washing the stain overboard, into the sea.

"There will always be people who hate other people," Armin says.

 _How could he do that to Erwin?_ Eren grits his teeth. Reiner and Bertolt still cling to each other, looking small out in the open, as if they're afraid that the entire crew still sees them only as traitors. As animals. As monsters.

 _Less than human._

 _Like Pieck thinks of Eldians, of his own people. And Zeke... it's no different.  
_

Eren gulps.

"Hange will do what she can," Mikasa says, pulling her scarf up over her mouth.

Eren nods. _What if it's not enough?_

"I don't want someone else's death on my conscience," Bertolt whispers.

"A little late, isn't it?" Eren can't resist snapping. Jean darts by them and rolls his eyes.

Reiner's face falls, and Eren remembers what he and Bertolt have been saying: his mind's torn apart. _What did they do to you?_

"You know, Eren," Armin says in a low voice as he climbs to his feet. "If it weren't for your father, we wouldn't be here, doing any of this."

Eren blinks. "I know." And his gaze finds Historia, standing next to Mike at the helm, with Ymir by her side. Historia's hair is still done in its perfect golden coif courtesy of Annie, sitting on her head like a crown. He thinks of Princess Frieda. _Would she have had the courage to do half of what Historia's done?_

" _Promise me."_ Father's voice echoes in his mind, and Eren wonders. _It's all because of you._ He sees Mr. Leonhart, looking at his daughter as if he'd love nothing more than to take her in his arms and yet can't cross that barrier. Falco folds his arms around Gabi, and Zofia and Udo peer over the rail, looking back at the fading Marlayan fleet. Colt holds his head in his hands. Galliard bites his lip.

Reiner and Bertolt still huddle together. Eren turns to them and holds out his hand. "Hey."

Reiner's mouth hovers open.

"Thanks for saving Erwin, Bertolt," he says.

"Oh thank goodness," Annie comments from behind him. "You've finally figured it out."

"Huh?" Eren spins around.

"Not you, Eren." She nods, and Eren sees that they're holding hands.

"Oh." Eren flushes. "Well—I'm happy for both of you."

* * *

The door to the med bay slams open. Hange storms out, blood smeared across her shirt, her cloak, her britches. She wipes maroon specks off of her spectacles, cursing.

"Is he—" Levi starts.

"He made it through surgery," Hange says. "I stitched him up. We'll see how he does when he wakes up—if he makes it through the night, I think he's got a very good chance." She sags against the wall, looking gray and worn and tired. Her brown hair droops, matted and greasy.

"Thank you," Levi manages. Hange and Moblit have given Erwin his best chance, and that means the world to Levi. He owes Erwin his life in multiple ways.

Levi can't help but think of the two traitors, one of whom saved him. _I was once a traitor, too._

"He's my captain, too," Hange retorts. And as she looks at Levi, he sees the rawness of her eyes. She probably never pictured herself operating on Erwin, but she was prepared for it more than Levi was, because in piracy, they have to be prepared for anything. And Hange is always prepared—she moves forward, no matter what. She saves lives; he takes them.

"Thank you," Levi tells her.

"Thank me when he wakes up," Hange says, sliding her glasses back on her nose.

Levi's hand flies out before he can think properly, grabbing her shoulder. "Hange."

She lifts her eyebrows in surprise. "What is it?"

He peers up into her eyes, their noses inches apart. He can see the blood and grime on her clothes, but it fades. His lips brush hers.

Hange pulls back before he does. "Yes!"

"Huh?" Levi splutters.

"You kissed me!"

 _Did she not like it? Why didn't I ask?_ "Well, yeah, I—"

She grabs him by the shoulders, pressing her lips against his, and Levi opens his mouth to her. His hands dig into her hair, and he almost imagines that she's transferring some of that vivacity, that relentless carving for life, to him, but of course she's not, and when they break apart, breaths heavy, he can tell that she wouldn't want to—that, for whatever reason, his grounded sense of the world and loyalty appeal to her just as he is, and it's overwhelming.

Levi presses his head against her chest, and she holds him. Someday she'll probably make a snarky comment about this, but Levi has time to pan his comeback, because right now they're two people who almost lost the person they adore, who, despite never allowing themselves to feel scared, were terrified.

 _But we've always been scared. We just functioned, anyways._

A hoot echoes behind them.

 _Oh, hell no!_ Levi whirls around to see Mike standing there, clapping. Nanaba's eyebrows are almost at her hairline, and— _oh, good grief_ —Eren and Mikasa wear identical stunned expressions.

Nanaba clears her throat. "I take it he's going to make it?"

"If he makes it through tonight," Hange confirms.

"Good. But, to be serious, you two," Mike says, dropping his voice. "Erwin's going to want an encore performance."

"Mike, I will feed you to the sharks!"

* * *

"That was unexpected," Eren wheezes as he and Mikasa head into the bowels of the frigate. It smells stale now, Mikasa thinks, as opposed to the fresh smell of the ship when they first borrowed it from Flegel.

"Not entirely," Mikasa says. "They bring out the best in each other."

"And the worst," Eren says. "I remember a few heated fights."

"No," Mikasa disagrees. "They bring out passion in each other. That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Hm." Eren smiles.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mikasa asks, pausing to light a lantern. Her sword sits heavy at her side.

"I have to," Eren says, squaring his shoulders. As much Mikasa wants to insist that he doesn't, she presses her lips together and keeps silent. He knows himself better than she does, and if he feels he needs to do this, she'll be there to protect him as best she can.

 _You can't protect him from this._

 _No,_ Mikasa acknowledges. _But I can bind up his wounds afterwards._

The brig is silent, echoing only with the groans of the hull as it surges through the waves. Everyone's gone now, save for one man. Mikasa hooks the lantern, hanging it up. Zeke leans back against the hull. He tips his head up when they approach.

"Did the Marlayan king kill your queen?"

"No," Eren snaps, gripping the bars. "They worked out a ceasefire and plan to meet again after two months."

"It won't last. You can't erase hatred that's been there for a hundred years."

"You can start," Mikasa says. Zeke's gaze darts to her.

Eeen hesitates, and then lowers himself to the floor. Mikasa grits her teeth as she follows suit. She'd much prefer to remain standing.

"Braun and Hoover told me how Grisha Jaeger died," Zeke says. "Tell me, Eren, would you be content to rest, if his murderers were still out there?"

"They likely are," Eren snaps.

"Will you seek them out?"

Eren's quiet. Mikasa cringes. "No," he says at last. "The people are the pawns. It was a much larger game being played."

Zeke shrugs. "Fair enough. But let's say, hypothetically, that they vowed to wipe you out. Wouldn't you try to wipe them out first?"

"Is that a threat?" Mikasa demands.

"Calm your girl down."

"She can calm herself down only if and when she wants to!" Eren shouts.

Zeke rolls his eyes. "No, Mikasa—I assume that's who you are—it's not a threat. I'm speaking hypothetically."

"Maybe," Eren says.

"That's how the Marlay feel. Eldia tried to wipe them out for years, so they're—"

"Doing the exact same thing back to them?" Eren demands. "How is that just?"

"And eye for an eye isn't just?"

"No," Mikasa interjects. "You're just going to wipe out everyone. Eldia's attempts to wipe of Marlay led to the destruction of their own people. Marlay and Eldia are both reaping what they have sown." _Until someone intervenes, chooses mercy instead. If Historia and the Marlayan king can stop this, there's hope._ Mikasa thinks of Bertolt and Reiner up on deck, how Eren thanked them, held out his hand. She thinks of Annie and Armin, both breaking through the walls and assumptions they had about the world.

 _You inspire me, Eren. You give me hope, far more than just this scarf._ She pinches the wool.

"You know," Eren says, voice trembling. "I still am really pissed at you."

Zeke shrugs.

"But you wanted us to get along, didn't you? You wanted a family, even though you turned yours in."

"I didn't want anyone else to be a victim of that man we called _Father_."

"Well, I don't want anyone else to be a victim of you," Eren snaps. "But I do want a brother."

Zeke blinks.

"My mother wouldn't want me to hurt you, or to hate you," Eren says. "Her name was Carla. She looked like me, and she used to tell me that everyone was special, just because they existed. It didn't matter what they did or didn't accomplish."

"Sounds like the opposite of Grisha." Zeke snorts.

"Maybe, but they loved each other anyways," Eren says. "She died in Fort Shiganshina—" His breath catches. "You're going to be kept in the fortress prison, when we get back to Sina."

Zeke scowls. "Until the axe?"

"Historia's not going to execute you," Eren says.

"Because I'm a Fritz and insurance against the Marlay?"

"Because she's my friend."

Zeke frowns.

Eren gets to his feet. Mikasa follows. "I'll visit you twice a week."

"What?" Zeke sounds dumbfounded.

"Do you like card games?"

Zeke just stares.

"Fine, I'll bring them anyways." Eren shrugs. "See you later." And he heads up the ladder. Mikasa takes the lantern and follows.

"How d'you think that went?" Eren pants, leaning against the corridor panel. "I—"

"I'm proud of you," Mikasa says. "And your mother would be, too." She pictures Carla Jaeger, cheeks pink as she embraced her son. Alive.

Mikasa never wants to picture her death again first when she thinks of Carla. Before she died, she was alive.

"I love you, Mikasa," Eren blurts out.

She freezes, Eren's words worming through her.

"I'm not very good at saying it, but—" He shifts, and Mikasa grabs him, pressing her cheek against his. Tears sting her eyes, and this lightness floats through her as he holds her against him.

"I love you, too," she whispers, home.

* * *

"Hey. We're approaching Sina." Ymir leans against the door frame.

Connie rubs the back of his skull. Jean and Marco look positively calm, but Sasha mirrors Connie's own concern, and Bertolt and Reiner look sick with dread even though Historia's assured them they have no reason to fear.

Erwin's continued to recover, but not to the point where Hange will let him out of bed yet. Connie overheard Jean and Levi discussing stretcher options.

And as for Connie… what kind of world awaits him there? He watches Sasha gather all the cards from the game they were playing in the tiny cabin Bertolt and Reiner, although free to leave, seldom do.

Historia's also insisted on getting Reiner to see a doctor once they land, which Connie knows is both necessary and yet makes Reiner feel ashamed. Although Connie doesn't think it's anything to be ashamed of. _"Hell, I'd have broken long before he did," he remarked to Sasha last night._

" _I wouldn't have survived that far," Sasha admitted, brushing her bangs back from her eyes._

 _Connie snorted. "Yes, you would have."_

" _I'm not—"_

" _Sasha, you are pretty brave, all right?" Connie interrupted. "You make other people laugh. You make us remember what it's like to be joyful. That takes a pretty special person."_ And I would have lost my mind without you, especially after what happened to my village.

 _Sasha turned red, as if she knew what he was about to say without him needing to say it._

"Are you thinking about your mom, Connie?" Marco asks now, chin resting on his fist.

Connie jolts out of his reverie. "Oh. Yeah." He wasn't, but is he ever not? She lurks in the back of his mind constantly.

"I'm so sorry," Bertolt whispers.

"I know you are," Connie says. "We're still friends, remember?"

Reiner snorts, but he smiles.

"Want to go up on deck?" Ymir invites. "Actually, you don't have a choice. Historia wants everybody there."

"It's going to kill Erwin that he can't be," mumbles Jean.

Sasha follows Connie up to the deck. Peering over the rail, the spot the lights and architecture of Sina bobbing into view.

"Where is Historia?" wonders Connie.

"Consulting with Erwin," Ymir answers, pushing her hair back.

Sasha nudges Connie, snickering. He turns to see Petra kissing a very pink Oruo on the mouth. "Finally," she hisses.

Connie nods. Anticipation courses through him. His heart beats in time with the waves, slapping against the ship. "What kind of foods do you want, Sasha? When we land?"

"Mm… meat," she says eagerly. "Lots of it—pork and beef, chicken and mutton—"

Connie laughs. Both he and Sasha have agreed to stay on as part of Historia's new guard, although he wonders whether how his mother is might change things. Historia plans to send aid to the refugee settlements, work on integrating them with local villages, and she's promised to help Connie's mother in particular, set her up in Sina.

 _Will she even want that?_

Back in Ragako, everyone wanted to get out, but no one could. Everyone wanted greatness, riches, everyone else's eyes following them as they walked down their dirt roads, and yet no one was ever able to leave. But Connie did, and he told himself that, when he missed his family so much his heart ached as if it'd been speared by one of his ribs, it would all be worth it. He'd make it worth it, for them.

And now all he wants is them back, and he'll be lucky to just get his mother back. _And what will you think of me?_ He's proud to work for the queen, but paradoxically, he feels as if it's empty by just itself. What makes him proud is that it's _Historia_ , his friend.

Historia finally emerges from Erwin's cabin, standing with her plait blowing in the wind as they sail into the harbor. On the shore, Connie can hear drums. Sasha casts him an excited look.

He wobbles when he first sets foot on land.

"Easy there," a voice says behind him.

"Marlowe! Hitch!" Sasha screams, throwing her arms around them.

"We're supposed to be preserving order," Marlowe chokes as he struggles to pry Sasha off him.

Connie winks. "Good luck with that." Historia's disembarked behind him, and everyone kneels.

"Thank you," Historia says as she beckons for them all to stand. It takes Connie a moment to realize she's looking directly at Hitch and Marlowe, who both flush.

"You did the right thing in the end, Connie hisses. "Should have known."

Behind him, he hears a familiar cry. "Connie!"

He spins around.

"We went and found her for you," Hitch says quickly.

"Let her through!" Historia calls.

The woman, draped in a drab dress and with far more lines in her face than Connie remembers, throws her arms around him. "Mother!"

"Let me look at you," she sobs, pulling back, and instead of sniping at her when she was overly affectionate, as he did in Ragako, Connie can only cry, because although he's been a pirate, and is now a guard, he came from Ragako, was raised by this woman, and he's never been prouder of it.

* * *

The journey to the palace is swift and, for Historia, takes place inside a carriage. Hitch and Marlowe—with the help of Nile Dok—apparently arranged everything in the palace, from who sleeps where to what foods to make.

"Meat's included," Marlowe informs Sasha as they arrive. She squeals, and Ymir snorts.

"Did you two finally figure it out?" asks Jean, leaning against Marco.

"What out?" Marlowe asks.

"This," says Hitch, standing on her tiptoes to peck Marlowe on the lips. He turns as red as the velvet drapes. Sasha shrieks in delight.

"Oh—you all knew?" Marlowe asks.

"Yes, Marlowe," Annie calls. "We all knew."

"The prisoner's made is safely to the dungeon," Oruo informs her. Eren nods in relief. Armin and Annie link arms, Armin admiring the elaborately carved furniture. "The other Eldian soldiers, those kids, will be taken to the palace for now, but they'll be heavily guarded until we can accurately assess their loyalties."

 _Good_. Historia hopes to connect with those kids, show them what life could be like without war. _Which is something we'll all be discovering together._

"And Erwin's made it safely inside," Petra adds. "Hange and Levi are with him, for now."

"They should be," Historia affirms. She remembers her conversation with Erwin earlier in the day.

" _I'm pretty scared, to tell the truth," she whispered.  
_

" _That's okay," he told her, and Historia's shoulders relaxed._

" _What will they say when they find out I haven't got a peace deal yet? Only a two-month-long ceasefire…" Historia traced the edge of the table she leaned against._

" _You've made more progress than anyone else so far."_

"Reiner! Bertolt!" she calls, remembering what else Erwin suggested.

Both of them shuffle over to her, faces amazed and, in Reiner's case, creased with fear.

It will be okay, even if they don't know it yet. Historia believes it. "I need advisors who know about the Marlay, who can advise about their customs, etc. It doesn't sound as if Zeke's willing to oblige."

Bertolt blinks. "You're asking—"

"You would trust us?" Reiner blurts out. "Even me?"

Ymir flicks her nails. "Haven't you realized already that Historia doesn't define people by their worst qualities or moments?"

"Well, I would be honored if you'd accept," Historia tells them, and Reiner literally falls at her feet.

"Oh, for goodness's sake," Ymir complains. "Don't give my Historia a fat head."

"Fat _chance_ ," Historia teases, but she crouches down and takes Reiner's hand, helping him up.

"Your Highness," calls a man Historia recognizes as Nile Dok. He pushes his way through the crowds. After three minutes, her head's swimming with all she needs to do: medals for Hitch and Marlowe and Nile and Pixis and Flegel and every merchant captain who came to her aid. Appointments to her official council of advisors, and she needs to greet the crowd of— _thousands_ —of people waiting in her courtyard. And her father is in the same fortress as Zeke, imprisoned by four stone walls—which, she has been assured, has been reassessed for security and has new guards appointed. Historia can't help but smirk at that.

"You're going to have some very difficult decisions to make," Nile warns her.

"I've made one already," Historia says. "When Erwin Smith recovers, he will be my chief advisor."

Nile hesitates. "But—"

"I trust him with my life," Historia says. A chant fills the air—she can hear it through the palace walls.

It's her _name_.

The one that, in another life, she was ashamed of, the name she hid.

It wasn't another life. It was this one.

Ymir smiles at her. _Look how far we've come._

Across the city, her father is waiting for her judgment, and the thought makes her want to return to that lost girl, crumped and crying on the streets. Tonight, in her room with Ymir, maybe she can. But for now…

Ymir beckons, pulling back the drapes. "Your people await."


End file.
